


What Hatches

by HotMolasses



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Monsterfucking, Murder, Wendigo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 107,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26002726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotMolasses/pseuds/HotMolasses
Summary: There is a village, nestled on the edge of an ancient forest where it is always winter.  Few of the townsfolk ever venture into it, except for one lonely hunter named Will Graham.  A loner who makes his living selling stag meat and spends more time with dogs than people, he finds his life changing when he comes face-to-face with a magical beast, one that he cannot get away from, and isn’t even sure he really wants to.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 373
Kudos: 790





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete! It is 25 chapters, which I will be posting one per week until they are all posted. I'll try to post on Wednesdays though obviously if life happens I might be a day or two late. 
> 
> At 105,000 words this is the longest fic I've ever written. It's been over three years in the making! It was incredibly hard work and I couldn't have done it without the help of my two amazing friends and beta readers, [victorine](https://victorineb.tumblr.com) and [tcbook](https://tcbook.tumblr.com).
> 
> If you'd like to chat with me about the fic (or anything else), come visit me on [my tumblr](https://snazzymolasses.tumblr.com)!
> 
> I really hope you enjoy reading! ^_^  
  
---  
  
The fog crept through the underbrush in the darkness, swallowing the scrub oaks and thickets, swirling around the boots of the hunter who sat crouched, unmoving in the shadow of a large pine tree cast against the moonlight. The hound beside him bared his teeth in a silent growl.

Will reached out a hand to steady him, rubbing his fingers through the fur on the back of his neck. A rustle, and Will’s hand was back on his musket, the butt of the gun pressed against his shoulder as he steadied and aligned his sights.

He remained unnaturally still, the skills of generations of hunters bred in his blood, and listened as the hooves of the stag padded softly on the forest floor. It was nearly in front of him before he could see the outline of it through the fog. It paused and raised its head to listen, and Will nodded at his hound. Arrow darted around and barked from the opposite side, causing the stag to raise its head and freeze, looking away from Will. He took aim and fired, the bullet slicing cleanly through its skull, shattering a nearby trunk after it passed through, chunks of wood flying into the distance.

The stag crumpled to the ground, the sound of the falling carcass echoing through the trees, bouncing off the fog in the air. Birds scattered from the branches in the trees above, knocking down small twigs and leaves as they fled. Arrow immediately darted out and guarded the kill. 

Will whistled, and his hounds emerged from the shadows, all itching for a hunt, disappointed that their master had not needed their help this time.

Will walked the half-mile to his cart, if it could be called that. The kids in the village called it the meat-wagon, though it wasn’t a wagon, either. He’d built it himself, nothing but a large wooden platform with four giant wheels, with harnesses for his pack to pull the enormous stags that he killed for meat.

It was an hour of work, carving the carcass into small enough pieces for him to lift onto the wagon. His hounds growled and kept the other predators at bay, his pack of twelve large and strong enough to stave off any wolves, or worse.

Will was the only person in the village who braved hunting at night.

The enormous nocturnal stags that he brought back were his reward.

Drenched in blood now, covered from head to toe, he rose and wiped the drips from his forehead with his bloodied arm. He sheathed his dripping knife and whistled again. The dogs aligned themselves in their places and he harnessed them, and the pack made their way back through the forest, pulling Will’s hunt through the trees, through the fog, back into the village.

“Good job.” Will said, tossing a bit of meat to Arrow, who led. He saw the jealousy in the other dogs’ eyes.

“You’ll all get your share. You know I’m fair.”

The pack moved silently, nothing but the sound of the wooden wheels turning and crushing leaves beneath them as they trudged onto the well-worn road that led through the center of town.

* * *

Will banged his fist heavily on the town butcher’s door.

“Go away.” he heard a sleepy voice from inside. “It’s the middle of the night, Will.”

No one else came calling at this hour.

No one else was stupid enough to go hunting at night.

“It’s a big one.” Will said. “It’ll make you a lot of money, having this kind of fresh meat in the morning. Or I could sell it to Bedelia. She always needs meat for the tavern.”

With a grumble and a protest, the door slowly creaked open to reveal a weary Abel Gideon, squinting his eyes. He glanced out at the cart and whistled.

“It is a beauty.” he said.

“Four hundred.” Will replied.

Abel snorted.

“I don’t have that kind of money.”  
Will didn’t look Abel in the eyes. His gaze fell just to the side of him, staring intently at the bloody smudge he’d left on the door.

Will shrugged.

“You have to spend money to make money.” he said. “You don’t have to buy it all; you’ll still get first pick.”

Abel sighed, vanished inside, and stepped back out wearing a cloak. He came out and inspected the meat, selecting the finest cuts, and paid Will fairly for them. 

Then with a slam he shut his door and grumbled something about Will’s lack of sanity.

Will then whistled at the dogs and made his way towards Bedelia’s, to sell her the rest.

* * *

Will rolled over in complaint as the sun managed to find a crack in his shutters to shine upon his face. He tossed his blanket over his head, but it was too late; the pack sensed he was awake and started getting restless where they were mulling outside. 

“It’s not even evening yet; settle down.” he mumbled at them. He avoided being awake during the daylight as much as possible. The night was quiet, peaceful, and didn’t contain anything he couldn’t handle.

The day was full of…people.

Then Yappers started to bark, which set off Teeth and Pudge.

“Do _not_ make me come out there!” he shouted, and the pack stilled. He grumbled. There was no way he was getting back to sleep now.

He went to the cupboard where he kept the roast he’d made for himself and the dogs from the leftovers of last night’s kill, yanked out a handful, and started shoving meat in his mouth. He then lifted his jug of whiskey and tipped it towards his mug…to get a few dribbles.

“Fuck.”

It looked like he was going to have to go out and socialize after all. He _really_ didn’t feel like talking to Bedelia right now. She was always such a pain in his ass. Probably because she knew she could say anything to him, and he’d keep coming back as one of her most regular customers.

He tossed his stagskin bag over his shoulder, decorated with black crow’s feathers, mostly just to freak people out. Not that he didn’t believe in Ravenstags. Oh, he knew they were real more than anyone. Maybe that was why he didn’t fear them. At least, not during the day.

He stepped out into the blinding afternoon sun and squinted as he made his way through the thicket of brush he deliberately let grow wild between his house and the road. It was supposed to keep people away, though it didn’t always seem to work.

“Will!” Alana cried as he approached the shops in the center of town. He let out a gentle breath. One of only two people in this town he didn’t mind talking to; though he usually preferred Beverly’s company a little more. Alana could be a little…smothering.

“Hey.” he said.

“You’re up early.” she remarked. “Out of whiskey?”

He snorted.

“Am I that predictable?”

She smiled brightly at him.

“Only to anyone who knows you.”

He gave a lopsided smile back. A flicker of affection rose up in him and then he tamped it down. Alana was married now. He’d missed that chance.

“How’s Margot?” he asked as she turned in step to walk with him.

“Doing fine. Struggling a little with the baby.”

Will snorted.

“I still don’t know how you managed to convince Mason to get you pregnant…or how you put up with him doing so.”

Alana held her head proudly high.

“You’d be surprised what a person is willing to do for the one they love.” she said.

He sighed.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know much about that.”

She gave him one of those looks; one of the ones that made him squirm a bit and wish he hadn’t revealed so much about himself. They reached Bedelia’s, whose front door was open for business, and gratefully stepped into the shade of the indoors.

“Will, Alana.” she said from behind the counter as they stepped in. “I made the juiciest steak from that carcass, Will. Lovely hunt, as always.”

He glared at her when he handed her his empty jug so she could re-fill it for another sale, though his expression was nothing compared to the accusatory face Alana directed towards him.

“You know I don’t like you hunting at night.” she said, her blue eyes wide and full of concern.

He sighed.

“Please don’t make me have this conversation again. I’m good at it. It makes me good money. I enjoy it.”

“It’s _dangerous_ , Will. You might not care about your own safety, but I do.”

He avoided looking her in the eyes, and instead directed his attention to the jugs along the wall, deciding how much he could afford out of the profits he’d made last night.

They left the shop and Will immediately started walking back home, filled jug in hand. 

“That’s all you’re going to buy?” Alana asked.

“Yes.”

She sighed.

“You should buy some bread, maybe. Some vegetables.”

“I have plenty of food.” he said, trying to ignore the glances from Freddie Lounds and her friends as they gossiped about how Alana was walking home with Will Graham. Again.

“You can’t live on meat alone, Will.”

“I also happen to eat fish. What are you, my mother?”

“Well someone has to be.” she grumbled.

They reached the front door of his house, and immediately the dogs started to rustle and fuss.

“I’m here, guys.” he said, pushing the front door open. He turned to Alana.

“Thank you for walking me home. I’m safe now. You can go.”

He slammed the door in her face.

He wasn’t entirely sure why she kept being his friend. 

* * *

Will was munching on the last bits of meat that clung to the bone with one hand while he lazily picked through his box of feathers, searching for the perfect one to add to the lure he was working on. The sun had set an hour ago and no one else had bothered him all day. He was just starting to enjoy what a relaxing evening he was having when he heard the sound of a rabble in the street growing nearer. 

From the sound of their voices, there were several people and they were very worried. Some kind of emergency. He assumed they were walking past his house on their way to Dr. Lecter’s, as that was where people with emergencies went.

He dropped the feather with frustration when the frantic pounding came to _his_ door, instead.

“Dr. Lecter is another half-mile down the road.” he shouted.

“He’s home!” he heard some people shout with relief. That was strange. No one was ever relieved to see him.

“Will Graham, we need to speak with you. It’s an emergency.”

Will cringed at the sound of the mayor’s voice. Of all the people he disliked, Jack Crawford was probably highest on the list.

Begrudgingly, he rose to his feet and opened his door. He was greeted by the sight of ten pairs of worried eyes, one of them being Alana’s. 

“What is it, Jack?”

He tried to hide his annoyance as much as possible.

“Will, Mr. Hobbs took his daughter hunting this afternoon, and they haven’t come back yet.”

He furrowed his brow.

“And now it’s an hour past dark.” Freddie offered. 

“We’re very concerned.” Jimmy Price added.

“And no one knows the forest in the night the way you do.” Jack tacked on. “We would all be very grateful if you would go and search for them.”

Will sighed and leaned against the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“They probably went in deep tracking a wounded hunt and decided to rest for the night…”

“No, you don’t understand, Will.” Jack interrupted him. “They went into the _Southern_ Forest.”

He saw the restlessness of the crowd diminish as people held still from their fear of even mentioning it. The Southern Forest. Where the Ravenstags lived. And other things.

Will frankly couldn’t care less about Garret Jacob Hobbs. He’d never liked the man. But Abigail was one of the few people in this town he could tolerate. Sometimes, when he was fishing, she’d sit on the edge of the bank and watch him, listening to his explanations as he showed her how to cast. She’d even asked him once if he’d teach her how, when she got older. That had never come to fruition, but the fact that she’d asked was one of the few warm memories he had.

“Fine, I’ll go look.” he said. 

He saw the relief on their faces. Their hope. He didn’t care.

He was doing this solely for Abigail, and maybe partially for Alana. Definitely not for Jack.

Will left the dogs behind him except for Arrow. He wasn’t hunting, and damned if he was going to put his dogs in danger. He started off from the main path where he knew they would have begun and, using a hair ribbon of Abigail’s for Arrow to sniff, they started to track.

The Southern Forest was, among a long list of other disturbing things, perpetually in winter. Keeping close behind Arrow as he led the way, Will’s boots began crunching on the dusting of snow, which grew deeper the farther in they went. Eventually, he saw two sets of boot tracks appear in the snow ahead of Arrow. 

“Heel.” he called, and Arrow stopped scenting and darted behind him. The moonlight glistened on the snow as it fell through dead tree branches. Will followed the tracks easily, taking him deeper and deeper into the woods. He tracked for over three hours, wondering why in hell Garret had any reason to go this far, in _these_ woods, with his daughter of all people. Not that Abigail wasn’t a good hunter. She was excellent; he’d seen her kill himself. But it was a dangerous place, and wasn’t a father supposed to keep his children _out_ of danger?

Not that Will knew much about fathers, or children. His dad had died when he was fifteen, leaving him without a single living relative. At least he’d taught him to hunt and fish, so he could make a living for himself.

Arrow’s ears perked up and Will froze, their breaths condensing in little white puffs in the air. Arrow bared his teeth silently, years of being Will’s best-trained dog making him able to warn his master without making a sound. The hairs prickled on the scruff of his neck, then spread down his back.

Will squinted in the darkness to where Arrow was looking. He was looking up a large hill, atop of which there were fewer trees. The moon shone brightly upon the pristine snow, making it sparkle silver in the night. 

The shadows shifted, and Will watched with a furrowed brow as they appeared to gather, leaving the surfaces of the tree trunks to stand on their own in the air. Then the form grew clearer, and Will watched, wide-eyed, as a Ravenstag walked silently out of the shadows and into the light atop the hill.

He froze in awe, not wanting to frighten it away. He had never seen one this close. In fact, until now, he’d never been absolutely sure he’d seen one at all. They were fleeting and silent, shadows in the distance, images of stags that were too large with perhaps a wisp of feathers in the silhouette.

But this one was a mere twenty feet away, in plain sight, standing under the moon. Its fur was dark brown, nearly black, and thick, thicker than a regular stag’s. Its antlers were enormous, towering from its head, splitting into thinner and thinner branches almost like a tree. Around its neck, and protruding from its rump above its tail, were unmistakably large, black feathers.

A slight wind blew, and they rustled, and Will stood transfixed. 

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered.

Its head snapped immediately to face Will and stare directly at him. His blood chilled and he stared back, certain that this was going to be his death. It was a fine death, he decided. Worth having experienced this.

Then a gunshot rang out. The Ravenstag reared up on its hind legs, turned, and charged _toward_ the sound. Snow tumbled from tree branches as its antlers stirred them. Arrow furiously started to bark. Will heard the scream of a girl.

He darted towards the sound of the commotion, Arrow close behind his heels. He crashed through the dead brush to see Garret holding a knife to Abigail’s throat. The Ravenstag loomed in front of them, gazing down with impassive but attentive eyes. 

Abigail saw him first.

“Will!” she cried, her voice echoing off the snow.

Garret snapped his eyes towards Will for a brief moment, during which the Ravenstag took a step towards him. He glared back at it, eyes wild and erratic.

“It demands a sacrifice.” he spat. “Every winter I feed it one. But this year it wasn’t satisfied. It wants her. I tried to kill it to free her from its clutches, but I missed. It wants to eat her, you can see that for yourself. Quick, kill it, Will. Kill it and free my daughter.”

Will lifted his musket and lined his sights without hesitation. He didn’t even attempt to aim at the Ravenstag.

He pulled the trigger, sure of his aim from years of hunting, the blood of Garret’s head splattering over Abigail’s face. The knife in his hand slipped when he collapsed, her eyes wide with shock, and something else, before she collapsed to the ground, throat spewing blood.

The beast stepped forward and nosed at Abigail. Will remained where he was, unmoving, knowing better than to interrupt whatever it would do. A long, thick, black tongue emerged from its jaw and licked along her neck. It lapped at the blood a few times, until the gush became a trickle, and then stopped entirely.

It then walked, its footsteps absolutely silent as its legs moved over Abigail, not touching a single hair of her.

It lowered its face to Garret and sniffed at his bloody skull. It raised its eyes to Will, who continued to stand perfectly still and motionless.

He swallowed nervously. He felt as if he should say something, anything, but no words came. The beast turned its head back to Garret’s body. It opened its mouth wide, sinking its teeth into his neck, and lifted his limp corpse. It then slowly walked off into the trees, dragging Garret with it, leaving a bloody trail that vanished as it disappeared into the snow.

Will hurried over to Abigail and scooped her up into his arms. He whistled for Arrow, who came loyally to his side, and began the grueling, frozen, three-hour walk back to the village.

When the snow finally started to thin, Will sighed heavily with relief. His arms shook with the weight of Abigail; she was nearly a grown woman and carrying her wasn’t easy. Several times he’d been forced to stop to rest for fear of dropping her, and each time Arrow lay in the snow beside her to keep her warm.

“Good boy.” Will said softly. There was no one you could count on like loyal dogs. Once he had made his way out of the snow, Will no longer had tracks to follow. Arrow sensed he was lost and immediately began to lead the way home, sniffing the air now and then to catch the direction. The sound of his other dogs barking happily to greet him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

He stumbled his way in through his back door. His arms had nothing left. He dropped Abigail onto his bed more roughly than he’d intended and collapsed beside her, his pack rushing in from the open door to lick at his hands and face and nuzzle him.

“I’m glad to see you too.” he said, a tired smile working its way up his cheeks. Arrow lay down beside him, just as exhausted, though his tail continued to wag happily.

“Biscuit.” he said, and the golden dog lifted her head, ears perked. “Fetch Alana.”

It took all the strength he had to say it, and then he collapsed, his head resting on the mattress beside Abigail’s arm.


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed like an eternity before a worried Alana rushed through the front door of his house. Will had drifted in and out of consciousness, being kept awake by the worried licks of dog tongues on his face whenever he slipped into blackness. When she finally arrived she had to repeat herself several times before he caught the meaning of what she’d said.

“Margot’s outside with a horse and cart. You just have to get up and walk to it, Will, and we’ll get you to Dr. Lecter.”

His head swam. He felt a tug under his arm, and then the fuzzy shape of Margot was in his vision, and they were both helping him to his feet. 

“Just tired.” he tried to say, but then his numb feet were walking, and he was lying down on a flatcart with a blanket hastily thrown on top of it. He watched as the Verger women carried Abigail’s limp form and gently rested her beside him, and he curled his arm under her head to keep it from jostling too much as Margot led them the half-mile to Dr. Lecter’s house, Alana walking alongside them, fretting the entire way.

If Will was a recluse and lived on the outskirts of town, Dr. Lecter was even more so. Though the doctor had lived in the village for ten years, he was still treated mostly as a stranger by folks who’s families had been residents for generations. The back of his property was the forest itself, with his house such a long way from town that he rarely got visitors. Most of the townspeople went to Dr. Chilton, who was far more approachable and friendly. Dr. Lecter was more skilled, however, and so on occasion Dr. Chilton would send the more difficult cases to him. He had a reputation for being an excellent doctor, and so private that no one knew much else about him.

In Will and Abigail’s case, however, he was simply closer and this was an emergency.

Alana knocked frantically, and there was some rustling, and the creak of a door opening, and the shine of a lantern being lit. A shadow loomed before Will and he forced himself up into a sitting position. The doctor reached out his hand to help him, but Will forcefully shook his head.

“Help Abigail.” he said, insistent. The doctor paused for a moment and cocked his head to the side, the way a curious dog might. When nothing moved, and nothing happened, Will grew frustrated.

“Abigail, help Abigail!” he cried.

Then everything was moving. The doctor set the lantern down on the ground and scooped Abigail up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. Will felt ready to pass out again, but then Alana and Margot were behind him, pulling him to his feet and leading him inside.

The fire was already starting to come to life, casting a bright glow into the room. Alana and Margot deposited Will into a chair and he collapsed gratefully into it. His limbs all felt like stone.

“Alana, if you would please light the lamps.” he heard a low, masculine, and very smooth voice say. 

“Of course, Dr. Lecter.” she said, and Will’s vision came even more into focus as lamps hung from the ceiling were lit around a wooden table, upon which Abigail lay.

The doctor hunched over Abigail’s body, a serious but calm expression on his features as he studied her neck. His hands gently but firmly clasped her head and chin, tilting it so he could examine the wound more closely.

He abruptly left her side, disappearing into another room, then returned with a bowl of water and a clean cloth, which he set beside her head. He gently began cleaning the wound, wiping away all of the dried blood that had dripped and oozed from her neck during Will’s grueling journey home. Will was exhausted beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life, and yet he found himself unable to doze, now. His eyes were transfixed by the doctor as he worked, his back to Will, his hands precise and certain as he began to stitch.

It seemed like a very short time before he was finished, Abigail’s neck wrapped in a clean white bandage.

“I’ll keep her warm until she wakes up. She’s kept most of her strength, I am confident that she will.” he said. “The wound seems to have gotten some care before she arrived here. Will must know his field medicine quite well.”

Will was aware that all three adults in the room turned to look at him, but the only one whose eyes he met were Dr. Lecter’s.

“Now to tend to the other patient.”

The doctor strode towards him, and something within Will told him to flee. Told him to _run_. The feeling was powerful. He was too exhausted to move.

Hands clasped his head and chin exactly the way they had Abigail’s. Fingers prodded his eyelids open, then palms pressed against his neck to feel his pulse, warm and sure and strong. Will felt his heart flutter at the touch. It was in such stark opposition to the previous emotion he’d just had he thought it must be delirium.

“It’s only blizzard exhaustion.” he said. “Rest and warmth are all he needs.”

Will heard Alana’s sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Doctor. How much is the charge?” she asked, pulling out her purse. While Will was grateful to her for offering to pay, he was no child. He could take care of himself.

“No charge.” Dr. Lecter said. “Abigail is an orphan, and Will is a hero.”

“That is very kind of you.” Alana replied, awe and a great amount of respect in her voice. There was some more small talk, and then Margot and Alana left, the latter giving him an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder before the doctor shut the door behind them.

He turned, and Will had the distinct feeling of being looked at like he was prey.

“Abigail is as stable as I can make her. All she needs now is rest.” he said, stepping slowly closer, looming over Will as he hunched sideways in the chair. “Will you allow me to treat you, now? Please.”

Will tried to swallow, his mouth dry.

“Thought you said all I needed was rest.”

The doctor stopped his approach just a little too close to be comfortable.

“You have a few minor scrapes and a more serious cut on your neck.” he said. “Please allow me to bandage it.”

Will reached up and placed his palm on his neck. He felt the dried blood there, and the pain now that he was thawing out. He winced involuntarily.

His eyes darted over to Abigail, lying on the examination table.

“I’ll move her to a recovery bed.” he said. He turned, and when he stepped away, Will exhaled, which made him realize he’d been holding his breath.

The doctor easily, and gently, picked Abigail up into his arms. He carried her over to the bed nearest the fire and set her down with care. He at once seemed caring and cold, almost as if both emotions were true to his personality.

He pulled a thick blanket over her, then rose and stood by the examination table. He gestured with a palm, then stood absolutely still, patient, waiting.

Against every instinct in his body, Will wobbled to his feet and spent his fleeting energy walking to the table. The doctor’s arms were sure and strong under his back as he helped him to sit on the edge of the table.

“Thank you, Will.” he said.

The way he said Will’s name sent a tingle along his ears. Will swallowed thickly.

The doctor left with the bowl of water dirtied by Abigail’s blood, and returned with a clean one, along with a fresh cloth.

He stood in front of Will, eye-level now, his attention solely on Will’s wounds as his eyes examined his face. He brought up a hand and traced his fingers gently across Will’s forehead. His touch was warm. He carefully inspected each scrape, even ones Will could barely feel. Maybe even ones that weren’t there.

“Tell me, what were you and young Abigail doing in the Southern Forest, Will?” he asked. The question dug deeper than the words suggested it should. Will’s eyes darted over to Abigail and he wondered exactly what she would say when she woke up. Exactly what she considered to have happened. He suddenly felt cold. A shiver ran through him and he curled his arms across each other to try to warm up.

“Some folks came to me saying she and her father had gone into the Southern Forest and weren’t back by sundown.” Will said. “Since I’m used to hunting at night, they asked me to search them out and bring them back.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Lecter said.

He turned and dipped the clean cloth into the bowl, bringing it up to gently press against the scrape on Will’s forehead. The water was warm, and Will closed his eyes from the sting. The doctor’s fingers gently worked around the scrape, washing away the caked blood from his forehead.

“And when you traveled beyond the Southern Forest, into the snow, what did you find?”

Will’s eyes snapped open as the doctor pulled the cloth away from his forehead. He knew immediately that the doctor wasn’t talking about Garret or Abigail.

“How do you know I found anything?” Will snapped, annoyed at having anything implied about him. He didn’t like when people analyzed him.

The doctor didn’t reply at first, instead pressing a dry cloth to the wound on Will’s forehead, creating pressure by opening his other palm on the back of Will’s head, his fingers burying in his hair. He felt trapped between the doctor’s hands and he both liked it and wanted to run away.

“The wound on Abigail’s neck was sealed closed by the saliva of a Ravenstag.” the doctor replied matter-of-factly, pulling the dry cloth away to press a bandage in its place. He applied something sticky to the edges of the bandage to keep it in place and pulled his hands back. Will squinted his eyes at him in scrutiny.

“How do you know that?”

The doctor gave an almost imperceptible shrug. His demeanor was infuriatingly calm. Will wanted to crack him open and see what was underneath his annoyingly professional exterior.

“As a doctor, I have studied all manner of healing substances.” he said. “Among the most effective, and of course most difficult to obtain, is the saliva or blood of the Ravenstag.” he said. “I have seen its effects firsthand, though rarely, so I can recognize its healing properties when I see them.”

Will regarded him with suspicion, somehow smelling a lie, or a half-truth in there, though everything he said made sense.

“I have also had plenty of experience treating knife wounds.” he said, turning his head slightly to glance over at Abigail. He turned back to Will, whose jaw was set tightly now, revealing more than he wanted to about the truth of the doctor’s words.

“It would seem that something more complicated than you simply finding Abigail and carrying her home occurred.”

Will stared, unknowing of what to say.

“I can help you, Will, if you would confide in me the truth of what happened.”

Will’s suspicion doubled and he narrowed his eyes.

“An offer of help from a near-stranger rarely comes without a high price.” he asked.

Hannibal tilted his head to the side, almost as if he was concocting an answer that he thought would make the most sense. It was obvious to Will that he was weaving several thoughts together inside his mind; though whether they were malicious or kind, he couldn’t discern.

“Anyone who put themselves in as much danger as you did to bring her home safely deserves the benefit of the doubt.” he said simply. “Were it not for you, Abigail most certainly would have perished. As I said earlier, you are a hero. Though I am not certain that other people will be as…understanding as I am, of what transpired.”

“You don’t _know_ what transpired!” Will shouted, glaring angrily at the doctor and his _smug face_.

Except it wasn’t smug. It was aggravatingly placid.

“I know that Abigail and her father went hunting in a recklessly dangerous fashion. I know that you went after them, and that Mr. Hobbs did not return; Abigail suffered a knife wound to her throat, was healed by Ravenstag saliva, and that you risked your life to carry her to safety.” he said plainly. “No, I do not know the exact events that occurred, but I highly doubt it was _Abigail_ who put a knife to her own throat.”

Will’s blood chilled in his veins.

“I didn’t harm her. I was trying to rescue her.”

The doctor nodded.

“Then it was her father who held the knife.”

Will swallowed, trying to alleviate the thick lump that was forming in his throat. His eyes darted up to meet the doctor’s, and for some reason, they drove him to speak the truth.

“I shot him.” he said plainly. “He had a knife to his own daughter’s throat, and I shot him.”

The doctor nodded, seemingly understanding.

“As anyone with a conscience would have done.”

Sweat dripped into Will’s eyes and he wiped it away with his arm unthinkingly. It made him realize he was shaking; and that did not escape the doctor’s attention.

“What are you not telling me, Will?” he asked, as if they’d known each other forever, as if it was expected Will should bare all to him. “Please, Will. I want to help you. I am a doctor, after all. But I can do nothing unless you give me the full truth of what occurred.”

He stared at the wall beyond the doctor’s shoulder for a long moment, considering his options. It was possible that Abigail wouldn’t remember a thing about what happened, he could say nothing, and would indeed be regarded by the town as a hero. 

It was possible she would remember _exactly_ what happened; and in that case, he was going to be hung for murder.

There was no guarantee Dr. Lecter wouldn’t be the first to turn him in to Jack; but when Will’s eyes darted up to meet his gaze, he had a strong feeling he was his best hope of an ally.

“I saw a Ravenstag before I found Garret and Abigail.” Will said, keeping his eyes locked to the doctor’s gaze, daring him to turn on him now, after the promise he’d just made. “It was majestic and serene. Powerful and beautiful. I’ve never beheld anything like it in my life.” he said. As he spoke, he saw the doctor’s demeanor change. Or rather, _something_ within him changed. The cold exterior seemed to peel away just a bit.

“He shot at it.” Will said, his anger rising, his eyes darting away to glare at the wall. “He was a fool; why would you shoot something so…so…”

Will didn’t have the words.

“And it ran towards them. Then I ran towards them. And Garret had his knife to Abigail’s throat, and he was mumbling _nonsense_ , about how it wanted to hurt Abigail, and he was _crazy_ , Doctor, he’d lost his mind. He turned to me and screamed at me to shoot it; shoot the beautiful, indescribable creature before us.”

Will’s eyes snapped back to the doctor’s and in his gaze, saw that he _entirely_ understood. Approved, even.

“I shot the only thing that was actually causing harm. I shot Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

Neither spoke for a long moment. The sentence hung in the air for a long time. When Will realized the doctor was not going to respond until he finished the entire story, he continued.

“He fell, but he still sliced Abigail’s throat. I thought she was going to die. But then it came forward. It had no need to. No reason to. It’s beyond us, it’s…it’s…”

Again, he stumbled for words. None suited what he was trying to say.

“It licked her throat, and the bleeding stopped instantly. It stood over Garret’s body, looked me straight in the eyes, and…and, well, it didn’t eat him, but it _bit_ him, lifted him up with its teeth, and I knew, I knew it was _going_ to eat him…or…or that he ‘d _be_ eaten, by…by _something_.”

Will’s eyes rose back to meet the doctor’s again, and he exhaled, having gotten all of it out.

“Then I picked her up and carried her for three hours back to the village.”

He slumped, having relieved the burden from his chest, and stared at his knees, awaiting whatever verdict the doctor was going to impose on him for his reckless actions.

When he felt fingers brush tenderly against his cheek he jerked away out of surprise. But the fingers followed, and rested gently on his skin.

“Incredible creature.” the doctor whispered, and Will wasn’t entirely sure whether he was referring to him or the Ravenstag. 

He dipped the cloth in the water again and moved to begin cleaning his right cheek. He had to add more pressure there to get the clotted blood out from his beard, and he was not shy in doing so. The confidence in his hands was grounding, even as Will held his breath, waiting for the doctor’s response to his story. Will didn’t realize how much he was enjoying the touch until he pulled away and the touch was gone.

A dry cloth returned, patting Will’s face.

“Every one of your actions was entirely noble.” the doctor finally said, and Will opened his eyes shakily to glance up at him over the cloth. He pulled it away and his fingers returned with a bandage, carefully securing it on Will’s cheek, pasting some of his beard down. He winced. It was going to be hell trying to get that off.

“You have nothing to worry about.” the doctor said.

“But Abigail saw me shoot her father rather than an…” he had tried to say _animal_ , but couldn’t bring himself to get such a degrading word out.

“Abigail is a bright young girl. She will understand that it was her father, not you, who harmed her. I will back up your actions as the valiant efforts that they were, and explain to her the…significance of telling the story of what happened in a certain fashion, so that town treats you appropriately.”

Will heard what the doctor wasn’t saying. He turned his gaze to the sleeping girl and furrowed his brow. He wasn’t certain what she would do when she awoke. Still, it felt good to know the doctor was on his side. He’d never really had that before, someone on his side.

Their gazes met, and the doctor gave him a warm smile. Will involuntarily smiled back, pulling at the wound, which made him wince.

“Be careful not to move it too much while it heals.” the doctor said softly. When he spoke, a rush of air breathed out from his nose. It wafted over Will and he closed his eyes again and breathed it in. His heart gave a flutter, the way it used to do when he was with Alana.

No. Oh, no no no no no, he was _not_ attracted to the respected but reclusive town doctor. Will didn’t know him. No one knew him. He was far too strange. Everyone talked about how his medicine was excellent, but his personality was…well, a mystery. He had no friends, only patients. He was ‘single for a reason’, as Freddie would have put it.

The warm cloth was back, this time along the deeper wound on Will’s neck. It stung, and the doctor was gentle, but firm. He gently massaged the cloth over Will’s neck, the warm water dripping down to soak his shoulder. He tilted a bit away out of instinct due to the sting. The doctor pressed his other palm to the opposite side of Will’s neck to hold him still.

A flush of heat rose up Will’s neck at his gentle, firm touch. His heart raced and he unintentionally let out a soft gasp. He closed his eyes from embarrassment. Turned on by the fucking doctor, good job, Will Graham.

His wound finally cleaned, the doctor pulled away the washcloth—though he left his other hand right where it was, cupped against Will’s neck. The dry cloth was next, patting gently, followed by a larger bandage.

When he was finished, the doctor stilled, continuing to leave his hand against Will’s heated skin.

He dared to open his eyes.

Brown depths stared back at him, from a face too close.

“How does it feel?” the doctor asked, his voice soft. 

“Warm.” Will replied, his voice almost a whisper. The doctor flicked his eyes downward towards Will’s lips, and that was when Will finally noticed the flush in _his_ cheeks, as well.

“Something on your mind, Doctor?” he breathed.

“Hannibal.” he said, his face so close now, their noses nearly brushing.

“Hannibal.” Will whispered, cheeks pink. He tilted his head to the side and lowered his eyelids, his heart hammering in his chest. It had been a long time since someone had wanted to kiss him. He’d had a few in his lifetime: there had been Molly, then a few from Alana, a few from Margot but in those cases he felt like nothing more than a curiosity to them. This was entirely different.

Hannibal’s lips pressed gently to his, and Will’s heart threatened to leap into the roof. Dr. Lecter—Hannibal—parted his mouth and sucked on Will’s lower lip, his tongue tracing gently over it. Will gasped and wobbled, Hannibal’s hand on his neck steadying him, followed by his other hand, coming to rest on Will’s waist, now.

He pulled slowly away, but just barely. Just far enough so that they could look into each other’s eyes.

“You treat all your patients this way?” Will whispered, clinging to the attitude that normally pushed everyone away, because it was familiar, because it was comfortable.

Hannibal smirked. Almost laughed, even. It made him look at Will with an adoring expression, almost as if he was…attractive.

“Hardly.” he replied. “This is the first such occurrence.”

Will pushed forward then and closed the second kiss. Hannibal’s lips eagerly answered him. His heart hammered. His ears burned. 

Never. He had never felt like this. He had no idea what he was doing. He was being extremely impulsive and irresponsible. He didn’t care.

They pulled back breathless.

“I have never been so taken with anyone, Will.”

Will blushed crimson.

“Neither have I.”

Hannibal’s hand rose from his neck up to his cheek, then, cupping it gently in his palm, his thumb stroked over Will’s beard.

“Then pursue this with me.” he said, his voice husky. “Allow me to court you.”

“Yes.” Will replied, without hesitation, forgetting every single one of the reservations he’d had earlier. “Yes.”


	3. Chapter 3

Will opened his eyes to the light of the sun shining through the crack between the curtains. His neck was throbbing, the wounds on his face hurting him now when he’d barely felt them yesterday. He heard raised voices from outside.

“But we need to know what _happened_.” he heard Freddie’s unmistakable timbre pierce through his brain. 

“I am sorry, but they are both resting and need to heal. As a doctor, that is my first priority.”

“And as mayor, it is _my_ priority to understand the dangers my townspeople are in. If there is a monster in the Southern Forest, I need to know about it.”

Will’s entire body tensed at the sound of Jack’s voice. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped Hannibal… _Dr. Lecter_ , kept him out.

“I assure you, if either of them mentions to me something that pertinent, I will inform you immediately.” the doctor reassured. “But as of right now, they are both sleeping, as they very much need to be doing. I will not allow them to be awakened and threaten their recovery.”

“Jack, let them rest.” Bella’s firm voice said over the crowd. Will relaxed a little. He’d always liked Bella. She seemed to have a better head on her shoulders than her constantly agitated husband.

“Right, you’re right, as always.” he said, his voice softer. “Just let me know as soon as they’re awake, Doctor.”

“Yes, of course.”

Will heard the sounds of footsteps walking away down the road, and a long moment later, the soft closing of the door as Hannibal stepped back inside.

He came to stand beside Will’s bed, his shadow falling over his face. Will opened his eyes and gave him a slow grin.

“Thank you.” he said quietly.

Hannibal returned the grin, and watching it spread on his face made Will’s heartrate pick up. He had been wondering if the feeling from last night would wear off in the morning. Now he knew there was no chance of that.

Hannibal reached out his fingers and stroked them gently through Will’s hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, feeling warmth bloom in his cheeks.

“That is but the simplest of things I will do for you.” he said. Will’s cheeks flared into a full blush and he opened his eyes, only to stare at his own toes.

“Are you sure you’re not making a mistake, Doctor?” he asked quietly. “I’m not the most desirable…”

“You are infinitely desirable.”

Will swallowed thickly. 

Hannibal’s hand pulled away, and he felt himself feel cold from the loss. He watched him take the few steps towards Abigail’s bed and he inspected her neck and felt her forehead for fever.

Will forced himself to sit up, wincing as his muscles ached with soreness. 

“How is she?”

“Her breathing and pulse are normal. Temperature is a bit high, but not by much. Abigail, can you hear me?”

Will watched with worry, his brow wrinkling as the warm moment faded away and his fear returned.

“Abigail.” the doctor repeated. “Wake up, now.”

With a deep gasp, her eyes flew open and she began to cough. Hannibal quickly put his arm around her shoulders and helped her to sit up. He turned to Will, his expression entirely serious and completely calm.

“Will, some water.”

Will nodded and rose, walking into the kitchen where he saw a water barrel, lid tightly closed. He found a glass and dipped it, returning quickly. Abigail was calming a bit now, her eyes darting around the room frantically.

“Here, drink.” Hannibal said, and Will held out the glass to her. She raised her eyes, and when she saw who it was, her face lit up with realization.

“Will!” she cried. “We’re alive!”

He set his jaw, waiting to hear more. 

“Abigail, we have much to discuss, but first please, drink.” the doctor insisted. She nodded, wincing as she moved her neck. Her shaky hand reached out and took the glass. Slowly, she took small sips, the motion obviously painful for her, but her thirst overriding it. 

When it was empty she handed it to Hannibal, who set it on a side table.

Her eyes immediately flew back up to Will.

“You shot him.” she said, and he bit his tongue, knowing that any explanation wouldn’t do any…

“You saved me.” she said, standing up and wrapping her arms around Will in a crushing hug. He immediately hugged her back, holding her fiercely, the hours of carrying her through the snow coming back to him. He sobbed with relief, lowering his face into the hair on the top of her head.

“You’re okay.” he said softly. “You’re okay.”

_And you don’t hate me._

Hannibal suggested they should all have breakfast, and his patients sat at the table while he cooked up a delicious-smelling meal of omelets. For the first few moments all they did was eat, Will not having realized just how _hungry_ he was until he smelled the food. On top of that it was incredibly delicious; perhaps the best omelets he’d ever eaten.

By the second round, however, they had all slowed and begun to talk.

“Abigail, do you understand what happened last night?” Hannibal began, and Will had to force himself not to react. He was terrified of what she would say. Of what she would remember. Of how she would see the situation. And, new romantic feelings aside, he honestly didn’t know Hannibal and whether he would keep his promise to be on Will’s side, should her answer not be good for him.

“Yes.” she said. “My dad went nuts and Will saved me.”

Will stared at her and kept his tongue silent out of hope.

“What exactly do you remember about what happened?” Hannibal asked, pouring himself another glass of water, as if this was an entirely normal conversation.

She paused in her chewing to think, her eyes moving to stare at the table as she remembered.

“Dad said he wanted to go hunting. But he was really upset and agitated the whole time. Kept making noise, scaring the prey away. So we kept going deeper, until it got really cold and I saw snow on the ground. I said ‘Dad, this is the Southern Forest, we should head back.’ and he mumbled something about not returning empty-handed, and then it was really late, and then it was _night_ , and he still wouldn’t let us go back, and it was cold, _so_ cold…”

Her voice grew weak and her eyes stared off into the distance. 

“Then the moon rose, and we saw it. A Ravenstag.” her eyes focused again, and she looked directly into Will’s face. He wanted to look away, as he always did when someone tried to look into his eyes, but he forced himself not to.

“It was so beautiful.” she whispered. “I was just…watching, amazed that I would get to be _so_ lucky to see such a rare and magical creature.”

Will paid close attention as he listened to her speak so reverently of the Ravenstag. She seemed to understand that it was more than just a beast, that it deserved respect. She saw it the way he did. He moved his hands across the table to hold Abigail’s. The fear he’d been feeling only a moment ago was a fading memory, now. He looked into Abigail’s eyes and knew he had a kinship with her. They had been on the same side all along.

“My dad shot at it. It shocked me. I turned to yell at him, when the beast crashed through the woods towards us. Then Dad’s knife was out, and he was holding it to my throat…”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and Will watched Hannibal lift a hand and place it on her shoulder for encouragement. Will squeezed her hands more tightly.

“I think I screamed. The stag stopped right in front of us. Then you showed up, Will.” she said, her teary eyes rising to meet his again. “I was so confused and so afraid, and there you were. My dad was mumbling nonsense, about…about…” her hand yanked away from Will’s and flew to cover her mouth.

“Oh my God, he’s the reason a girl has gone missing in the winter every year, isn’t he?” she whispered with horror. Will hadn’t even thought about it until then; but given what Garret had said, she was probably right.

He squeezed her other hand even tighter. Her tears fell.

“He was going to sacrifice _me_.” she said. “He was going to…to feed me to…to…”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and no words came out. Instead she sobbed, and Hannibal rose from his seat. He pulled her up into his arms in a tight, protective, and yet somehow also cold embrace.

“Will saved me.” she said. “He shot my dad, but it was to save me, he was acting crazy, the Ravenstag wasn’t hurting anyone…”

Hannibal’s palm came up and gently rested upon the back of her head. 

“This wasn’t your fault, Abigail.” he said softly. He turned to look at Will, and with a nod of his chin, Will felt himself rising to his feet to embrace Abigail from behind. The two of them held her tightly while she cried, their faces looking at each other over her head, Will’s covered in lines of worry, Hannibal’s as passive and calm as he always seemed to be.

Finally, they all pulled away. Abigail sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeves.

“I guess...I guess I’m an orphan, now.” she said. “Though not really, I mean, I’m _nearly_ grown, I suppose I can take care of myself…”

Will’s heart lurched.

“No.” he said. “There’s no need for that. We’ll find you a home. I’ll look out for you, Abigail.” he said.

“ _We_ will look out for you.” Hannibal supplied, his eyes locking onto Will’s. His heart hammered in his chest. It seemed he really meant it when he said he would do anything for him.

She looked up at both of them with gratefulness.

“Thank you.” she whispered quietly.

“But before we do so, there are a few things we need to discuss.” Hannibal said, returning to his chair, pulling Abigail to sit in hers. Will walked back to his own seat and watched as Hannibal held her hands now, his gaze unwavering, his face placid as he spoke.

“While _you_ recognize that Will’s actions were noble and heroic, there are other people in the town who may not view them as such.” Hannibal said. Abigail turned her head to look at Will, a deep frown of worry on her features.

“I might be accused of murder.” Will said, his nervousness returning. 

She shook her head immediately no.

“You saved my life, you…you…”

“We know.” Hannibal said, his voice gentle, though still eerily calm. “Which is why I think it best that you and Will both tell a different story from what occurred. A simpler story. You and your father got lost. You passed out from the cold. When Will found you, you were alone. We don’t know what happened to your father. Will carried you back. A branch cut your neck, the same branches that cut Will’s face when he stumbled.”

Abigail nodded, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to remember the scenario. 

“I hate asking you to do this…” Will said. She shook her head.

“No, I understand why.” she replied. “I do.”

Tears fell from her eyes anyway.

Hannibal squeezed her hands more tightly.

“Thank you for being so understanding.” he said. She nodded, and wiped her tears away with her sleeve once again. Hannibal looked over at Will, who gazed back at him with a fretful expression, the lie already weighing on him, knowing what a burden it was to keep a secret, especially one like this.

“Sooo…are you guys like, dating?” Abigail asked. Will’s eyes flew wide and he stared at her.

“I was awake for a bit last night. I saw you making out.”

Will’s blush bloomed straight up to his ears. He glanced to Hannibal, but that didn’t help, as the man gave him a flirtatious grin that only made him blush harder.

“Abigail, I apologize for our rude behavior. We did not intend for you to be witness to such actions.”

She nodded once and gave a shaky smile.

“You guys want me to keep it a secret. Got it.”

Will let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Abigail.” he whispered, his eyes captured by Hannibal’s gaze, unable to tear away. 

In the span of one night, his life had changed so completely that he hardly recognized himself from the man he’d been the day before. He’d gone from being completely alone to having a suitor and a ward, now, and was about to be hailed as a town hero besides. It was a lot of change. Almost too much. He really needed a drink of whiskey.

“Well. The town, and Jack, are desperate to hear what happened from the two of you. I suggest we don’t keep them waiting; the longer they stew, the harder they will be to satiate.”

Will nodded dumbly, his mind still whirling, his brain still feeling scrambled.

He felt Hannibal’s hand rest gently on his cheek, and his eyes snapped up to meet his.

“I will be with you throughout this ordeal, Will.” he reassured. “And after.”

Will gave a shaky nod and a nervous smile, to which Hannibal leaned in and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. _And after_. He couldn’t keep his heart from hammering. He hoped the chill in the air would give him an excuse for the pink in his cheeks.

* * *

The grilling by Jack had been exhausting. First he had them sit in separate rooms in his enormous mayoral house, and asked Will what happened. Then he asked Abigail what happened. Then he asked them together what happened. Still he wasn’t satisfied. Only after Bella had gently placed a hand on his shoulder and suggested that perhaps it was time to let them leave for dinner did he relent.

Then they were free to go…about as far as the fence in Jack’s front yard, where the _entire town_ asked them what happened. Will was mumbling his way through the story a _third_ time when one of the Vergers’ carriages pulled up in the street, and Alana stepped out, walking through the crowd towards them.

“I was hoping you would allow Margot and I to serve you dinner.” Alana said. “In honor of all you did to rescue Abigail.”

It changed the mood of the crowd instantly. People began congratulating Will; offering him gifts themselves, trying to look as charitable and gracious as Mrs. Alana Verger. Will gave her a quick smile of thanks and pulled Abigail’s hand through the crowd. He collapsed into the carriage with relief, the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves putting precious distance between them and the noise of the town.

“Thank you.” he said.

“I’d figured you would have had enough.” she replied, giving him a gentle smile. “How are you feeling, Abigail?” Alana asked. The young girl instinctually reached up to her neck and gently patted the bandage there.

“Alright. Tired.” she said. 

The Verger lands were rather far from the center of town, about two miles; which they could be, since there was never a lack of horses at their disposal. Behind the brick mansion in which they lived were large, wide fields for the horses to graze upon and be ridden, which led to tree-lines and trails in the northern woods, the gentlest and most pleasant of all the forest lands that surrounded the town.

During the rather long ride, Alana leaned in gently and said to them both,

“So, what _really_ happened?”

Will’s mouth pressed into a hard line, and Abigail turned to him for direction, which was about as clear an admission of the truth as any confession.

Alana leaned back and folded her hands in her lap.

“You know you can trust me, Will.” she said. He sighed. Of course he knew that.

So he began to recount to her exactly what had happened, with Abigail adding in parts of her own experience, Alana listening intently, nodding to show she was listening. Her brow furrowed with concern as they told her of Garret’s actions, and at the part where he sliced Abigail’s throat, she reached out and held the girl’s hand.

“That’s an awful thing to have to go through.” she said, with genuine sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Abigail.”

Abigail’s eyes grew a little misty, but she held her composure. She was trying to show how strong she was. Will knew the feeling well.

They arrived, and servants had already begun to prepare the dinner, making its way hot onto the table moments after they stepped into the mansion. Abigail looked around with wide, wondrous eyes, taking in the gorgeous architecture and décor. Will still wasn’t used to it himself, having grown up knowing Alana but hardly being close with Margot, until their marriage. 

They sat down at the table and were joined by Margot, who congratulated Will on his heroic efforts.

“What will you do, now, Abigail, with your father gone?” she asked gently, concern written on her features. Abigail looked down at her plate, her long brown hair nearly falling into it, and she did nothing to catch it.

“I don’t know. Will promised to watch out for me. Maybe I’ll go move in with him.” she said, turning her face towards him, hopeful. He hadn’t, for some reason, expected the question, and didn’t have the time to compose his face into anything more comforting than surprise. She looked down again, at her plate, biting her lower lip, trying to hold back the tears.

“With _Will_?” Alana said, an eyebrow raising. He looked at her and shrugged. 

“It’d be better than living alone, in my father’s…in my house.” she said quietly.

“You can stay here.” Alana offered immediately. Abigail snapped her head up and looked at her with surprise.

“I can? I mean, for how long? I mean, thank you, I… “

“For as long as you like.” Margot added, smiling at her wife. “We have plenty of room and resources. It was very kind of Will to offer, but, frankly, he doesn’t have the room and he barely makes enough to take care of himself.”

Will glared at Margot over the table, and she gave him a quirk of a smile and a wink. He let his shoulders slump in relief. He had no idea how to take care of a teenage girl, and they knew it.

“You may, of course, leave at any time to return to your own house.” Alana offered. “But I agree, living alone after a tragedy like this is probably not the best idea. If company is what you’re after, we have plenty of it.”

Abigail smiled then. 

“I’d like that, very much.” she said. 

“Well then, it’s settled.”

Alana lifted her glass, and everyone followed.

“To Abigail, our new guest.”

They clinked, and drank, and the chatter turned more cheerful as Margot and Alana began telling Abigail all about the Verger lands, and the things she could do on them: reading, gardening, riding, even work and learn a trade from their skilled servants, if she chose. Several times she glanced over the table to Will with a shy smile, and he returned it, encouraging her to be excited about something good happening in her life. 

Long after night fell, Will finally declared it was time for him to go home. Alana called a carriage and he hugged her, whispering _thank you_ into her ear as he did so. He then hugged Margot, and Abigail last, squeezing her tightly.

“Alana will take excellent care of you.” he said. She gave him a reassuring smile.

“I know.”

He rode the carriage only to the edge of town, where he got out and continued the rest of the way home on foot. While he appreciated the fact that Alana was perfectly willing to share some of her newfound wealth with him, he also resented taking it, for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of. It was late when he got home, and he was tired. The dogs were restless so he went out and fed them, making sure to pet each one at least once before he stumbled back inside and collapsed onto his bed, still in his day clothes.

* * *

Will awakened to the sound of restless dogs. Dogs shuffling and whimpering but not barking was never a good sign. He grabbed his musket from the corner and threw the back door open, hoping to scare away whatever had his pack so agitated. A wolf, or a bear, or…

His thoughts stilled as a strong wind whipped through the trees, tearing off leaves and small twigs, some flying close to his face so that he lifted an arm to protect it. His dogs whimpered and ran to him, surrounding him at his feet, some behind him for protection. Arrow stood in front of him and growled at the darkness. Will followed his line of sight. The wind died down and the leaves of the trees stopped rustling, though their shadows continued to move. The air became eerily still for how whipped up it had been a moment ago, and yet the shadows continued to sway and twist, sliding into long wisps and gathering together, exactly as the Ravenstag had appeared the night before.

But as this bunch of shadows gathered, they coalesced into something much, much larger. A tall column of blackness rose until it towered over Will’s house, it’s top nearly reaching the height of the trees. As it grew, a round shape appeared at the top of it, forming something like a head. He watched in stilled horror as antlers sprouted from the head, branching as they grew, and he had to crane his neck farther and farther back in order to see the tops of them.

“Shit.” he whispered, his voice barely working. His blood chilled in his veins and he lowered the musket, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good. Arrow seemed to sense it as well; his growl fell silent, though he continued to bare his teeth at the slithering, growing shadow.

Will stood frozen as the form before him solidified in shape, squinting his eyes, trying to discern in the darkness where its pitch-black body ended. He watched as two arms sprouted from it, growing longer and longer, until they were horrifyingly long, and then each split into five sharp, deadly claws. Lastly, the bottom of the shadow split into two legs, splitting much too high, until it had the vaguest shape of a man, but could be called nothing else but a monster.

In its claws was clutched what he thought at first was a rag doll. The creature…no, _spirit_ , he realized, as its edges weren’t well defined; they were fuzzy and moved while it stood still, almost as if its skin was made of smoke. The spirit silently stretched out its arm towards Will, holding out the… _girl_ , the very, very dead girl, clasped in its palm like she weighed nothing. Its elbow and shoulder creaked as it stretched out towards Will, and he knew immediately it was offering him a gift.

He wasn’t stupid enough to refuse it.

He tried not to stare at the face of the girl; he didn’t want to know who she was, at least not if he could help it. Fear gripped his heart and sent ice through his veins, although some part of him knew that the…thing…wasn’t here to hurt him, despite how dangerous it obviously was. He was glad his dogs knew enough to be quiet and not agitate it.

“Thank you.” Will whispered. The spirit opened its mouth slowly, opening, opening, farther than any mouth should open, revealing two rows of impossibly sharp, black teeth. The sound of wind whispered from its mouth, and Will knew it had said something, though he couldn’t understand.

It dropped the corpse at Will’s feet. It landed with a sickening thud. He didn’t dare tear his eyes away to look down. The spirit lifted its claw up, closer to Will’s face, closer, and he knew better than to move, than to turn, than to breathe.

The claw reached up and stroked along his cheek, gently, almost reverently. Will’s heart hammered harder, fear and excitement gripping at him so tightly he could barely move. The claw was deadly sharp, and as gentle as the touch was, it still sliced his skin, leaving a thin trail of blood along Will’s cheek, until the claw paused, resting gently against his face.

Then it opened its eyes. They were searing, blinding white, in contrast to the absolute blackness that was the rest of it. Will was forced to close his eyes against the brightness, and when he blinked them open, it was gone. 


	4. Chapter 4

The moment the demon spirit had disappeared, the world moved again. Will’s dogs rushed to their feet, barking and howling and growing in the direction of the woods. The wind returned, rustling the leaves in the trees, and Will began to breathe, fear creeping up in his veins to infect his mind.

He looked down at his feet and saw the body of Cassie Boyle, lying in a heap in the mud. Or what was left of her, anyway. Entire chunks of her had been ripped away by enormous teeth, leaving behind a barely recognizable carcass, though still with plenty of food on it.

Will balked and backed away, suddenly feeling nauseous. What was wrong with him? _Food_? Cassie wasn’t food, she was his neighbor! His senses came to him in a rush and he ran into the house, whistling for the dogs to come in. He shut them inside and ran out into the street, panicking. He didn’t think about where he was running; it didn’t even cross his mind that he was heading for Dr. Lecter’s until he was there, pounding on his door once again in the middle of the night.

It creaked open to reveal the worried face of the man who he had just met yesterday.

“Will.” he said. “What’s the matter? What happened to your face?”

“Please, can I come in?” Will asked, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling very cold and exposed, even though he was still fully dressed in his day-clothes.

“Yes, of course.”

Hannibal stepped aside and he gratefully slinked his way past him, glad that Hannibal lived far enough from town that there would be no one around to see him.

Hannibal softly shut the door and lifted the candle in his hand to light the lantern on the wall.

“I shall start a fire.” he said, and Will was grateful not to have to explain what he was doing here, just yet. Hannibal walked over to the fireplace and stirred the coals, placing new logs down, thick ones, indicating he intended the fire to burn for a long time. Will relaxed a bit, wondering just what it was about Hannibal that allowed him to let his guard down so easily.

“Come, sit. Tell me what’s wrong.” he said, sitting down in one armchair that faced the fire, gesturing for Will to sit in the other.

He gratefully sat, nearly collapsed, into the chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he let himself stare into the fire, losing his thoughts in the crackling flames for a long moment.

Hannibal, to his credit, didn’t prod or push. He simply sat, arms resting on the armrests, and patiently waited for Will to begin.

“The body of Cassie Boyle is lying in my back yard, half-eaten, right now.” he finally said. Probably the absolute worst way to begin this story, he thought.

Hannibal merely tilted his head slightly to the side with curiosity.

“And how did it come to be there?” he asked, and while the only _logical_ answer was that Will had put it there, he somehow didn’t hear an accusatory tone in Hannibal’s voice.

Will bit his lower lip and furrowed his brow as he suddenly wondered why on earth he was telling this to _Hannibal_ , a man he barely knew and was trying to _date_. Why hadn’t he run to Alana? Or Beverly? At least they both already _knew_ he was crazy, and still liked him anyway, for some reason.

“Will, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” Hannibal said, crossing one leg over the other, looking annoyingly proper even in his nightgown.

“Who said I needed any help?” Will snapped back, an absurd statement considering the only fact he’d told Hannibal thus far was that there was a dead girl in his back yard, and he had a bleeding wound on his face.

“It would be an interesting scenario indeed if you came over here simply to report the contents of your backyard, then to return home without asking anything of me.” Hannibal said. He rose, and Will’s eyes darted away from his face to stare into the fire, because of course Hannibal was right.

Of course he’d come here for help.

He just didn’t know what that _was_.

“Perhaps some wine to help you relax.” Hannibal said, walking around Will’s chair and disappearing into the kitchen. He returned a moment later, two wine glasses in hand, along with a clean washcloth and a bowl. Will took the wine gratefully and took a long gulp, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the unusual flavor, entirely different from Bedelia’s red wine. He wondered briefly where Hannibal had bought it.

When he opened his eyes again, he was met with Hannibal’s placid, yet somehow burning gaze, and it his heart gave a small leap. He took a deep breath.

“Now, why don’t I clean that wound while you tell me what has happened.”

Will nodded, and Hannibal knelt on the floor beside him. He had done this only yesterday, and yet here he was again with an excuse for Hannibal to put his hands on him. His touch was very clinical, quite professional, but in contrast to the creature, it was _warm_. He placed one hand on Will’s good cheek to hold him steady, and Will found himself leaning into it. It was comforting, and as Hannibal worked to clean the wound, he found himself relaxing enough to speak.

“I was visited by a spirit from the forest.” he said. He watched Hannibal for a reaction. Will was normally uncannily good at gauging people’s reactions, but Hannibal’s face was a complete mystery to him. “It came, just now, to the back door of my house, and handed me…Cassie’s body.”

Hannibal pressed his lips together slightly, an expression that Will couldn’t interpret, and then went back to gently cleaning the slice on his face.

“It brought you a gift.” he said simply. His interpretation being exactly the same as Will’s gave him a bit of relief, somehow.

“Yes.” he said. “Well…half of one. It ate half of her before it gave her to me.”

It was very, very strange talking about Cassie as being ‘given’ to him. He should have been far more horrified by the entire situation, really. Why wasn’t he horrified?

At that, Hannibal’s lips upticked in the tiniest form of a smile, almost as if he thought the situation was… _cute_.

“It was sharing her with you.”

Will’s eyes darted up to meet his, and the realization that Hannibal wasn’t guessing, but was _stating_ , made a thick lump form in his throat.

“You know about this thing.” Will whispered.

Hannibal’s passive face turned to look at the side table as he set the washcloth down and picked up a towel to pat Will’s face dry.

“I know quite a bit about the spirits that live in the Southern Forest, yes.” he replied, his touch firm but gentle. “And it is very obvious to me that this wound was made by one of its inhabitants.”

Hannibal tilted Will’s head with his hands, and he let him. He then felt the bandage being taped to his face, his third one, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what he must have looked like. The ordeals of the last two days were truly starting to take their toll, and he stared at the firelight as it flickered across the floor, exhausted.

“What did I do to get the attention of such a thing? And how do I get rid of it?”

The idea of asking Hannibal _how_ he knew about the spirits crossed his mind, but seemed like a much less pressing question. One he could ask later. When he didn’t have a body in his back yard.

Hannibal gracefully rose to his feet, taking the medical supplies with him as he disappeared into the kitchen. Will grabbed his glass of wine and took another long sip. Hannibal returned with a nightrobe on, looking far too put together for a man who’d just been woken up in the middle of the night. His hair wasn’t even mussed.

“Most likely, it is grateful you respected a member of its kin, the Ravenstag.” Hannibal said. “Perhaps it is even grateful that you protected it from the thoughtless actions of Mr. Hobbs. Consider it a thank you.”

Will raised his eyebrows and stared into the fire, thinking. He bit his lower lip again, trying to decide whether he should tell Hannibal the rest of the story. 

“What else aren’t you telling me, Will?”

Will sighed. He wasn’t used to someone reading _his_ emotions. 

He leaned forward and rubbed his palms over his face.

“It…it touched me.” he said. 

“Yes, I know. I just bandaged the result of that.”

Will shook his head and glanced at Hannibal through his fingers, only to see him quirk an eyebrow unhelpfully. He sighed and let his hands fall. “It wasn’t an attack. It…caressed my face.”

Hannibal’s eyebrow raised higher.

“More than a thank you gift, then.” he said. At the phrase, Will felt his cheeks flush. It was an absurd reaction. Something was wrong with him. He turned his face to the side, hoping Hannibal wouldn’t see.

“No need to hide your feelings from me, Will.” Hannibal said, and at that his cheeks flushed deeper, this time from embarrassment. “I am in pursuit of them, after all.”

Will couldn’t help the small squeak that escaped him at that. He clasped the glass in his hand tightly and shakily brought it to his lips, gulping down the rest of the wine in one go.

“No need to be nervous, Will.” Hannibal said, his voice as smooth as oil. “As your suitor I only have your best interests in mind. Tell me, what has you so concerned?”

Will felt dizzy, as if he was tumbling down a dark hole from which he knew he’d never be able to climb back out. His world was changing so much, so fast…

“You’re telling me I literally have the …romantic... interest of a _forest demon_ that is leaving me _half-eaten dead people_ as gifts, and this isn’t something to be concerned about?!”

He couldn’t look at Hannibal’s face at all, now. Anywhere else. The wall. The rafters. The fire. Anywhere.

“Would you rather it be interested in you in a malicious way?”

“I’d rather it not be interested in me at all!”

Hannibal’s lips pressed tightly together in a thin line again, almost as if he…disapproved, or was disappointed, somehow. Will chalked it up to him misinterpreting his expression due to the wine.

“Are you concerned I would be jealous?”

Will had to blink several times to wrap his head around that one.

“What? No.”

“Then I don’t see the concern.”

Will glared at him.

“It’s _eating people!_ ”

Hannibal nodded as if he’d stated it was Tuesday.

“Which I am certain it has been doing, and will continue to do, whether or not you are involved. The only difference between its behavior prior to today is that now, you have its favor. Therefore you will not be on its menu. I can only see this as a positive thing.”

Will squinted as Hannibal’s logic started to make sense. He was right, of course. The spirit, whatever it was, hadn’t appeared into existence yesterday. _It_ was probably the thing that had been eating the girls Garret had thought he’d been sacrificing to the Ravenstags for all these years. The only difference now was that it seemed to like Will. Wonderful.

“Will, you look deeply troubled.”

He sighed.

“Well I just found out there’s a forest creature eating the townspeople, and has been, for God knows how long.”

Hannibal nodded.

“This isn’t news for you, is it?” Will accused.

Hannibal gave his head the slightest shake.

“I’ve known.”

Will furrowed his brow again.

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

Hannibal lifted his wine glass to his lips once more, it only reaching the half-empty mark now, whereas Will’s wine was long gone.

“To what purpose?” Hannibal replied. “Mass hysteria? Panic? A disorganized rabble traipsing into the Southern Forest with murder on their minds, only to be eaten, and possibly anger something even worse?”

Will sighed and nodded, understanding the logic.

“We should keep this to ourselves.” Will said.

“Absolutely.”

Will leaned back in his chair, simultaneously feeling relieved and also worse. None of this sat well in his stomach. In fact he felt rather sick.

“What do I do with Cassie?” he asked. “What do I tell her brother?”

The thought of having to tell Nicholas Boyle his sister was dead wasn’t a pleasant idea.

“You tell him nothing. Up until now, the spirit has chosen not to make itself known to anyone in the town, save you. I highly doubt betraying its trust would have any positive consequences.”

Will nodded again. It seemed like sound advice. 

“As for Cassie, you must accept the gift, Will, or you risk offending it and facing whatever wrath such a creature, when made angry, would bring.”

Will’s eyes flicked up to Hannibal’s face as he knew what he was saying without further clarification.

“Oh, no. I can’t.” he whispered softly. “She’s…she’s…I _know_ her!”

Hannibal nodded almost imperceptibly, but Will was relieved to see that he understood.

“Then we must make it look like you have accepted her. As long as it sees you take her into your home, and not take her out again, it will assume you’ve eaten her, and it will be sated.”

Will started to sweat just thinking about what that meant. Dragging her inside. Chopping her up. Taking her out in small bits, hidden in jars and boxes.

His face went pale.

“I will help you.”

Will nodded numbly. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned his life. This _certainly_ wasn’t how he’d envisioned his second talk with the man he was interested in dating.

Hannibal rose and stood in front of Will. He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, then gently moved his fingers up Will’s neck, stroking over Will’s cheek, caressing the new bandage. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch in spite of himself, letting out a long sigh.

Hannibal’s fingers slid gently under Will’s chin and lifted his face to look up at him.

“I am honored that you have trusted me with this…situation.” he said. Will gazed up into his eyes and felt his heart beat faster. He rose to his feet, pulled by the desire to be closer to Hannibal’s face. He kept his palm on Will’s cheek; warm and certain, grounding him, steadying him. 

They both leaned in together, their lips meeting in the middle, a gentle brush, a warm exhale of air. Will breathed in Hannibal’s breath, and he forgot about everything that was on his mind. His arms rose to embrace him, and Hannibal’s other hand slid around his back to pull him close. 

Will opened his mouth to taste, and Hannibal responded equally. Their tongues rose to seek each other, and with a soft groan, Will allowed Hannibal into his mouth. The flush in his cheeks spread to his ears and down his neck, heating his skin. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the softness of their kisses, the only things Will was aware of being Hannibal’s lips and the fingers that stroked along his cheek.

When they pulled away, neither of them went very far, their foreheads resting upon each other’s.

“I have never been so smitten, in all my life.” Hannibal whispered. If it was possible for the glow in Will’s body to burn brighter, it did.

“Not shaken by a first date of chopping up a body?” Will replied in jest, wondering what was wrong with him that he was making jokes about this.

Except that Hannibal smiled.

“Not at all.” he replied, his eyes tracing over Will’s face with deep affection. 

“Well, then.” Will said, still entirely lost in the moment, the words that came from his mouth swimming in his head. “Would you allow me to invite you to my house, Dr. Lecter?”

Will’s voice shook when he said it; the line that every teenager practiced over and over as they lay awake in bed at night, dreaming of who their lover might be when they grew up. 

“I would be delighted.” he replied, and the two of them left, slinking out in the middle of the night back to Will’s, hands clasped together, fingers intertwined, fire still burning brightly in Dr. Lecter’s living room.

* * *

The town was as silent as it always was in the middle of the night, exactly the way Will liked it. They walked around to the back of his house, where his dogs all lifted their heads and started wagging their tails eagerly. Yappers opened her mouth to bark and Will gave her a stern look. She shut it and sheepishly walked over to him. He scruffed her head affectionately.

“Good girl. No barking at night.”

“You have them excellently trained.” Hannibal said, an impressed note in his voice.

“We’re a team.” Will said proudly. He noticed most of the pack looking at Hannibal with curiosity, suspicious but confused because Will didn’t seem afraid. Will turned and gestured to Hannibal.

“This is Hannibal. He’s my friend.”

They all stared at him. None moved closer to sniff; none begged to be petted. 

The feeling that there was something more to Hannibal crept back into Will’s spine. The more cautious part of his mind warned him to be careful what he got himself into. Another part of him already knew it was too late.

“You have a way with beasts.” Hannibal said, moving forward through the yard, carefully making his way around Will’s eerily still dogs.

“I respect them.” Will said, following behind him, finding it a bit strange that Hannibal was leading him across his own property, and even stranger that he didn’t mind it.

“It’s an admirable trait.” Hannibal said. He stopped when he reached Cassie’s carcass, tilting his face downward to look at her with the same cool indifference he appeared to bestow upon everything- except for Will.

“Most of the vital organs remain.” Hannibal said. He turned to Will and their eyes met in the moonlight. Will’s heart skipped a bit. He shouldn’t feel this way, this much, this soon.

It was incredible.

“It gave you the best parts.”

Will swallowed thickly, a slight blush rising to his cheeks and he wasn’t even sure why.

“You’re not upset by this.”

Hannibal gave him a small smile.

“Are you expecting me to be concerned by your lack of concern?”

Will frowned.

He turned back to study the body some more, walking slowly around it. Will remained where he was, his gaze darting from Hannibal to Cassie and back.

“Social expectation only applies if the parties present subscribe to it.” Will said, his heart starting to race a little faster. He was diving in head-first, and he didn’t even know into what.

“An excellent point. It serves a valuable purpose in policing the members of a society, but this value has its limitations.” Hannibal replied, finishing his circuit of Cassie, nodding his head in satisfaction at whatever it was he’d been looking for.

He turned and his eyes pierced into Will.

“The only rules that apply in our private company are those that we agree upon between us.” Hannibal said. Will found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Hannibal’s eyes. He was saying everything Will had ever wanted to hear, only in a much more elegant and careful way. Screw society and screw its rules. 

Will found himself drawn. Before he fully realized it, he was closing the distance between them, and they were kissing, Hannibal’s palm pressing into the back of his head, holding him close. Will melted into his arms, unconcerned with the corpse that lay at their feet.

When they pulled back for breath, there was just enough space between them to speak.

“What if it comes back while you’re here?” Will whispered.

“Then I shall get to see the magnificent creature for myself.” Hannibal said, with a quirk of a smile. Will tried to return it, but found himself rattled at the memory of the encounter.

“What if _it_ is jealous?” he said, even more softly.

He felt Hannibal’s hand reach up to stroke his cheek, his thumb gently pushing through the curls of his beard.

“You are a coveted thing, Will Graham.” he said, and Will felt heat rise up through his cheeks and spread through his ears. He’d never been spoken to like this in his entire life. It was making it hard to think. He couldn’t get enough. “If the situation reveals itself to be one where I must fight for you, I will.”

His knees were weak. The arms he had around Hannibal tightened to hold himself up. He heard his dogs whimper softly. 

“I don’t know if I can handle your affections, Dr. Lecter.” he said. “I’m a little light-headed from all of this, frankly.”

Hannibal’s arm reached tightly behind him and held him up, his lips moving in to brush over his ear as he spoke.

“I will hold you up, bolster you, make you strong enough to withstand my affections.” he said. The phrase only made Will even more light-headed and he heard himself whimper softly into Hannibal’s neck.

“Though it may not appear so, believe it when I say you cause a similar effect in myself.” he said softly. Will felt himself snort with disbelief. Such an idea was easy to reject, and he found himself regaining his mental footing. He pulled back and stood up straight.

“It will take some convincing to get me to believe that one.” he said. 

Hannibal only gave him a half-smile, and then he slowly turned to look down at Cassie’s body.

“I suppose we should begin our work.” He turned from Will and leaned down to pick her up in his arms, uncaring about the blood and fluids that oozed onto his sleeves as he did so. Will had expected there to be a smell, and the lack of one made him realize just _how_ freshly dead she was. Hannibal turned and walked towards the house, and Will hurried ahead of him to hold open the door.

They stepped into the darkness and Will lit the only lamp he bothered to keep oil in. Hannibal walked over to the table, and raised an eyebrow at the state of it. While Will moved all the junk from on top of it—fishing lines, hooks, his gutting knife, two empty jugs of whiskey and a half-full one—Hannibal stood patiently, not saying a word, until the table was clear and he could place Cassie’s body onto it.

“It seems you take better care of your dogs than you do of yourself.” Hannibal replied calmly, as if he were being invited in for dinner and not to carve up Will’s monster-gifted corpse.

“It’s not like I ever entertain company.” he said. “Other than Alana and Beverly, you’re the only person who’s ever seen the inside.”

He thought he caught the flash of a fleeting smile at the corner of Hannibal’s lips at that, but it was so quick he wasn’t certain.

Hannibal leaned over the corpse and began examining it. He glanced over at the knife Will had set down on top of a counter and Will handed it to him without him needing to ask. He unabashedly stuck his hand into one of the gaping bite marks and started to work, cutting the flesh back and away. Will watched with fascination, amazed at the skill with which Hannibal knew his way around a human body. Will was used to butchering stags, and Hannibal moved in a very similar fashion, quick and practiced, making it clear he had done this many, many times.

Will didn’t ask how it was that Hannibal knew precisely how to carve up a dead human, because he really didn’t want to know. If this relationship thing, or whatever it was they were pursuing, continued and became serious, well. He’d have to remember this important bit of information. 

“Do you have any bowls or dishes?” Hannibal asked, pulling his blood-drenched hands from the corpse, holding a liver delicately between his fingers. Will nodded, opening a cabinet and handing a stack of bowls to Hannibal, wondering exactly what his plan was. Probably to cover the bowls and bring them out of the house one at a time, to dispose of the parts in a way the creature wouldn’t see.

Will stood while Hannibal worked, watching intently as he expertly removed each organ and placed them into Will’s mismatched set of bowls, some wooden, some porcelain, some metal, all different sizes. When he had separated all the organs, he started to cut at the joints of the limbs, removing arms from shoulders, legs from hips. The popping sound they made as the bones were pulled from their sockets made Will wince just a hair, knowing that these were _not_ the joints of a stag. He avoided looking at Cassie’s face.

The blood started to drip over the sides of the table and onto the wooden floor, soaking into the worn timber. The stains were never going to come out. Will would have to think of an excuse as to why his table and floor had blood stains all over them. Or maybe he’d just stop letting the two friends he had come into his house.

Hannibal worked for over an hour, his concentration impeccable, his precision never wavering. Now and then he would ask for Will’s participation, asking him to hold this here or pull that there. He carved the flesh of the torso into large chunks, then smaller ones, until all the bowls were full. There was still a pile of meat and now bones on the table, all neatly separated. 

“The difficult part is finished, now.” Hannibal said, lifting a hand to wipe at his forehead, smearing a line of blood across it. Will looked down at his own blood-drenched hands and knew they both looked a state. He had to remind himself that he frequently looked this way. It just…felt different when he knew the blood on his hands wasn’t an animal.

“Now what?” he asked, his voice soft and wavering. He glanced out the window at the dark night outside, wondering just how close the forest spirit was; whether it was truly watching, whether it would truly become angry if he didn’t eat its gift.

“Bring your dog-cart around front. We’ll load it up and bring it all to my house. Once you leave, if it is still observing you, its attention will no longer be on me, and I can dispose of the pieces.”

“How are you going to…um, do that?” Will asked. Hannibal looked down at the pile of neatly-carved flesh. 

“In a way that they will never be found, if that is your concern.”

Will’s brow furrowed, and the feeling that there was much more to Hannibal than he was showing grew. 

“If you are going to harbor so many of my secrets, can’t I have your trust in return?” Will asked, and he saw Hannibal pause entirely for a moment, even his motions, even his breathing.

“That is my desire, yes.” he said, without looking at Will, keeping his attention on the mess upon the table.

“So trust me.” Will said, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

He immediately saw the conflict on Hannibal’s face. The absolute desire to do exactly as Will asked, and the fear cause by revealing whatever his plans were.

“In time.” he said, and Will sighed with frustration. 

“Bring the cart.” Hannibal repeated, and Will uncrossed his arms with another sigh, then walked out the back door to do as he was asked.

* * *

It had taken the entire night. With less than an hour before dawn, they finally had all of Cassie loaded onto his cart, in various bowls and barrels, and her bones in an old trunk Will had. His dogs were restless; they knew something wasn’t right, but he kept them quiet by reassuring them and feeding them extra stag bits. 

By the time they’d gotten to Hannibal’s and had everything unloaded behind his house, dawn was breaking. Drenched in sweat and dried blood, Will leaned against the side of the house, as tired as if he’d gone on a hunt, except with nothing to show for it.

“Thank you.” he finally said, when all the work was done. Hannibal didn’t turn to look at him, his eyes traveling over the various vessels that held pieces of Cassie Boyle.

“No need for gratitude. It wouldn’t serve my self-interest to have you harmed by an otherworldly creature, or anything, for that matter.”

Will snorted.

“You did all of this for yourself.”

Hannibal lifted his eyes then, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a tiny smirk.

“I do enjoy how well you seem to understand me.”

Will rolled his eyes and pushed himself off of the wall to stand up straight. 

“Well, I’ve got to get home. I’m sure you need sleep as much as I do, even though you’re incredible at hiding it.” Will said, not bothering to hide the yawn that came to him. He saw amusement in Hannibal’s eyes and sighed. He wasn’t used to being fawned over.

“Rest well, Will.” he said. Will nodded and walked back around to the front. He whistled for his dogs to follow and they did, obediently. He collapsed into his bed, far too exhausted to think about bathing, and much too tired to dream, which was a relief.


	5. Chapter 5

The pounding on his door felt like it went straight through Will’s skull. He ignored it, along with Yapper’s barks, and then Pudge’s. But when Arrow started barking he forced his head up, trusting his lead dog to know when something was important.

“Will Graham, I know you’re in there!” the cheerful voice of Beverly Katz pierced through his brain. “The sun’s down, I let you sleep in, come on!”

He groaned and dragged himself into a standing position. He padded towards the door and yanked it open, squinting from the light of dusk, which was brighter than the moonlit nights he was used to.

“Finally! I...oh my God, Will, what did you do, fall asleep in the middle of slaughtering a stag?”

Adrenaline rushed to his brain and he looked down at himself, dried blood clinging to his skin and soaked into his clothes. 

“I…uh….”

“Well you can’t go to your award party like that! We’ve got to get you cleaned up, come on!”

Before he could even process that, she pushed her way past him into his kitchen.

“Award…party?”

“Holy _crap_ , did you slaughter it on your table, or something!?” she accused, her eyes wide at the puddles of blood that had dried on the table and the surrounding floor.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” he said. 

Her response was a heavy sigh, and then a slight shake of her head that said “it’s just Will being Will.” She immediately busied herself, mumbling about “there must be clean clothes in this place _somewhere_ ”, pausing to pet the dogs when she opened the back door, who greeted her with happy tongues and wagging tails.

A warm glow filled Will as he watched his best friend fuss on his behalf. Yes, he was weird. Alana put up with it. Everyone else constantly threw it in his face. But Beverly just didn’t seem to mind; she enjoyed Will’s company, ignored his quirks, and went about their friendship almost as if she thought he was pleasant to be around.

And now Hannibal made a third person who wanted to be around him. It was almost hard to believe.

He heard the crank of the well squeaking as she pulled up the bucket, followed by the sound of water splashing into the large tub he kept outside, repeating over and over.

When she came back her linen pants were soaked from the knees down, though she hardly seemed to notice.

“Okay, we don’t have time to heat a bath, so cold water it is. Strip down and get scrubbing.”

She tossed a lump of soap and a rag at him…which she must have brought, because Will couldn’t recall having bought any recently…then shoved him out the back and latched the door so he couldn’t get back in.

“Just tell me when you’re clean, and I’ll pass clean clothes out to you!” she shouted, as he listened to her fuss some more, probably trying to clean up the table.

Will stared down at his dogs who only looked at him quizzically. He sighed. Dogs had it so easy. No baths. No…parties.

“What do you mean, my ‘award party’?” he said as he stepped into the frigid water. He couldn’t bear to get any deeper than standing in it, so he dipped the cloth and lathered it up, rubbing it over the crusted blood on his skin.

“The town is _so_ grateful for you rescuing Abigail from a Ravenstag, Jack decided to throw a party in your honor! Don’t worry, there will be whiskey.” her voice shouted through the window.

Fuck, she knew him too well.

Will gritted his teeth and washed everything but his hair (at least _that_ didn’t have blood in it), and Beverly discovered a very nice, linen shirt that somehow didn’t have any stains on it, probably because he’d lost it. It didn’t even look familiar. All he owned for pants were stagskin, but again she’d found a pair that looked almost new, and when he stepped back into the house she was standing by the sink, shaving razor in hand.

Will had to admit, it felt good to get cleaned up. Beard trimmed and hair combed, he walked into town alongside Beverly looking almost civilized, except for the (clean and new, thanks to Bev) bandages on his face. He could hear the ruckus in the tavern attached to Bedelia’s liquor shop long before they got there, the party having apparently started without him. The deep voice of Jack Crawford assaulted his ears, and Will sighed. He would have turned back if it wasn’t for the iron grip Beverly had on his arm, so there was little chance of him finding a way to break free.

She pushed open the door with a big smile on her face, and Will’s eyes quickly surveyed the room. Jack was standing at the front, giving some sort of speech (his favorite thing to do), Bella sitting gracefully beside him. Next to them were Jimmy and Brian Price, arms wrapped around each other as if they were newly dating and not married five years, now. Next to them were Freddie and the other town gossips, Dr. Fredrick Chilton making small talk with any and all of them, probably trying to get a date. 

And off in the quietest corner of the room, talking softly with Alana and Abigail, was Hannibal.

His eyes locked onto Will’s for the briefest of moments before turning back to Alana’s face, carrying on whatever conversation they were having without interruption. Will froze.

His heart bloomed in his chest, a fiery burn that drowned all his other emotions. He tore his eyes away with great pain, telling himself he would be able to look as much as he wanted later. Time moved again, and with it his heart raced, its pulse throbbing in his cheeks.

“There he is, the man of honor!” Jack bellowed, and everyone in the room turned to look at him. Will forced an uncomfortable smile across his face and allowed Jack to crush him in a hug, his strong palm slapping roughly against his shoulder.

Jack stepped back and turned to face the room.

“Welcome to your party, Will!”

Everyone cheered and clapped, and Will stared at them all with the fake smile pasted to his face, looking everywhere but at Hannibal. Thankfully the attention was short-lived, as Jack announced that now that Will was here, everyone could eat, and the chatter in the room went right back to its previous level of noise.

“Hey guys!” Beverly said, dragging Will over to Jimmy and Brian’s table, which for once he was grateful for. He didn’t know how he’d have survived if she’d chosen to sit by Alana.

“Will! You are every bit the incredible hunter people say you are!” Jimmy said.

“Just fantastic!” Brian added.

“Superb, even!”

They both clapped him on the back, and he couldn’t help it, a small, real smile might have slipped its way out.

“I was just doing the right thing…”  
“Yeah, but going deep into the Southern Forest?”

“Facing a Ravenstag?”

“Living to _tell_ about it?”

“What did it look like?”

“It looked a lot like you, Jimmy.” Will said, and Brian and Beverly laughed, and despite himself, Will actually started to have a good time.

The food was delicious, cooked by Bedelia herself. Keeping Alana’s scolding in mind, Will helped himself to plenty of non-stag dishes, with lots of vegetables in them, and for meat he ate chicken. Free whiskey only enlivened his mood further, and by the time Jack stood up to give a speech on his behalf, Will was actually smiling.

“As you all know, this party is to honor Will, who risked his life fighting demons to save Abigail from danger.”

Everyone cheered and clapped, and Jack began recounting the story, which was highly inaccurate even to the version Will and Abigail had told. During his speech, Will risked a few glances towards Hannibal, shocked and pleased to find each time that he was staring right back. On the third glance Hannibal ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, and Will quickly darted his eyes back towards Jack. He felt the pink rise in his cheeks and hoped it didn’t show, or at least could be blamed on the whiskey.

“To Will Graham!” Jack said, lifting his glass, and everyone followed suit. They toasted and drank, and then the band started playing, and people got up on their feet and started to dance. When Jimmy pulled Brian up onto the dance floor it left Will and Beverly alone, and in the noise she leaned over to speak softly in his ear.

“Okay, spill. Who is it?”

He gave her an innocent look and tried to play dumb, which she didn’t fall for in the least.

“Don’t you try to hide from me, Graham. I see you making eyes at somebody. Whoever they are, they’re better at it than you, because I can’t for my _life_ figure out who has gotten a blush to the cheeks of _Will Graham_.”

At that, his blush bloomed fully, turning his face red and spreading all the way up to his ears. Beverly’s eyes widened in delighted shock.

“Oh my God, I was _right_! There _is_ someone! You have a romantic interest!”

He glared at her.

“If you tell _anyone_ …”

She crossed her fingers over her heart.

“My lips are sealed. Best friends’ promise. Not gonna tell a soul.”  
He glared harder.

“I _promise_. When have I ever broken a promise?”

He sighed. 

“Never.”

“Okay then. Spill it.”

He looked down at his hands and wondered if Hannibal would be upset with him for saying anything. They hadn’t discussed it beyond asking Abigail to keep their secret.

“He’ll know if I say anything…”

“Oh it’s a _he_.” she said, churning that over in her mind and nodding as she tried to narrow down the possibilities of who it could be, based on that information.

“It’s not Mason Verger, is it?”

“Holy fuck, Beverly!” he cried, horrified, loud enough that some people turned to stare at him. She giggled, her beer wavering in her hand and nearly spilling over the edge of the glass. They all chalked it up to drunken silliness and went back to ignoring their ‘guest of honor’, which was just as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m…” she wasn’t quite finished with her fit of giggles, got a few more out, then snorted through her nose.

“Finished?” he asked, trying to glare, but enjoying her company a bit too much to be angry.

“Yes.” she said, taking a long drag of her beer. “Now, more seriously, I am stumped.”

“Good.”

She gasped and feigned being hurt, then pushed her palm against his chest.

“Mean. I’ve told you every one of my crushes. Every one. Since first grade.”

“This isn’t just some crush.”

It was out before he realized what he was saying. It was the whiskey’s fault. He clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late.

Beverly’s mouth was hanging open in shock. 

“Oh my God, are you in _love_?”

If he hadn’t been red before, he was now. 

“Shut up.”  
“Will, that’s _wonderful!_ ”

He had no power to stop the smile that spread over his face. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know if this is even a good idea, I don’t know him that well, I…”

“Will, I am so, so happy for you!”

He saw the genuine caring on her face, and the beaming smile on his behalf, and almost, almost reached out and gave her a giant hug. 

“You’re too good to me.” he said.

“I know. Now tell me.”

He sighed.

“If he gets upset because I talked…”

“Jeez, Will, it’s not like I’m going to go _running_ to him to tell him you blabbed! I can keep my mouth shut!”

He knew that. Her talking wasn’t what he was worried about. But for some reason, Will knew that somehow, once he opened his mouth, Hannibal would _know_. He’d know Will had divulged their relationship to someone, and in doing so, was declaring it as more serious. His heart started to race again and he glanced over to the table where Hannibal had been sitting, but didn’t see him. Had he gone home? Maybe he was dancing, though that didn’t seem like him. Wherever he was, Will had a sense that he wasn’t far, and was somehow still watching Will and listening to his every word.

He snapped his eyes back to Beverly.

“It’s Dr. Lecter.” he said quietly.

Her mouth flew to cover her hand in genuine surprise. It took her a long moment to recover, and when she did, her face was far too serious.

“Well, you’re both recluses, so I guess it makes sense.”

Will glared.

“I’m kidding. Though actually I meant that. If I think about it, I can see it. I can.”

He stared at his whiskey glass. It was much too empty.

“So, when did it start?”

Will shrugged.

“Two days ago.”

She leaned in further, all ears, and he sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get away with that brief of a recount.

“It started when he was stitching me up. We kissed. It was…something else.” he said, unable to reign in the tug of smile at the corner of his lips.

She beamed at him and nodded her head for him to continue.

“Then he asked if he could court me, and I said yes. Then last night we…”

He paused. 

Thankfully, she took that to mean he was shy, and not that he was hiding their activity of carving up Cassie Boyle’s body in his kitchen.

“We kissed again, and there’s nothing like it.” Will said. “There’s no one like him.”

She squealed and clapped her hands and reached around Will to give him a furiously tight hug.

“I’m _so_ happy for you, Will. So happy! I won’t tell anyone, I promise!” she said, and he felt her sincerity, and her warmth, and her love, and Will allowed a little happiness to creep into himself, too.

It didn’t have a chance to last, however. The front door of the tavern crashed open, the bang of it hitting the wall loud enough to be heard over the band and jubilant partiers. Some people turned to stare at Nicholas Boyle as he stood in the doorway, seething. He marched across the room and shoved his way through the crowd towards Jack, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Stop! Stop all this! I can’t believe you, Crawford! Cassie is missing, and instead of helping me look for her, you’re throwing a _party_!”

He shoved his way between Jack and Bella and poked a finger hard into Jack’s chest. Everyone had stopped dancing to stare, then the band stopped playing, and the entire world was focused on Nick as he fumed with rage.

“I’ve been searching for her _alone_ , by myself, with _no help_ , and I come back to town to find _this_ is what you’re doing instead?!”

Will’s face was ashen. Thankfully nobody was paying any attention to him - all their focus was on Nick - because he must have had the most obvious look of guilt possible on his face. He stared, frozen, unable to move, as he watched Nick scream in Jack’s face.

“Nick, we all know Cassie is prone to taking trips and forgetting to tell you she’s gone somewhere. The last time you had the entire town looking for her, it turned out she had just gone to Greenwood to buy…”

“This is different! She left her purse, she left her money! She’s not going to buy tobacco! She left in the middle of making dinner, for crying out loud! Who does that? Who leaves a slaughtered chicken on the counter and just…walks out in the middle of the night?”

The look Jack gave him was one of sympathy, but more along the lines that he felt sorry Nick had to deal with a sister like Cassie, and less actual concern that something had happened to her.

Will hadn’t moved.

“Don’t you look at me that way! Like I’m crazy!” Nick reached back his hand to swing, and Jack stepped to the side. Nick stumbled but swung again, punching the air, and the crack of his fist hitting someone echoed through the air.

“Abigail!” Alana cried, and Will flew to his feet to try to see what was going on.

“That’s it, you’re under arrest!” Jack’s voice boomed, and there was more scuffling, and then Will saw Jack haul Nick to his feet, his strong hands wrapped firmly on his wrists at his back. 

“Brian, Jimmy.” Jack called his deputies, and they helped him move an angry and belligerent Nick, still screaming, out the front door and towards the jailhouse.

Will had finally shoved his way through the crowd to Abigail, who Alana had seated at the closest table.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling at her side while Alana inspected her face.

“Fine, I’m fine.” she said, though her expression was considerably upset. “I’m just worried about Cassie. Nick seems really concerned.”

Will couldn’t look Abigail in the eyes. He stared at her knees instead, reaching out his hand to hold hers in comfort, not knowing what to say. Guilt clawed at him, knowing that it would be a long time before she would get her answer; it would probably be months, perhaps a year, before a missing Cassie Boyle would be written off as gone for good.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Alana said. “But I think you’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s get you home.”

Will rose and helped Abigail to her feet, then to the door, hovering over her right side while Alana helped her on her left. He noticed a speck of blood bleeding through the bandage on her neck and he started to fuss more, holding Abigail’s hand tightly as he and Alana helped her to their carriage.

“Will, I’m fine.” she said. He helped her up into the carriage anyway, and waited for Alana to be seated.

“Thank you, Will. I think you should go home and rest, too. You look a little pale.” Alana said, her eyebrows knitted. 

He nodded, his lips unable to form words, and shut the carriage door for them. The horses pulled away and he watched them go, the street now filling with people from the party, all of them headed home, the fun for the evening over.

Will shoved his hands in his pockets and headed towards his house alone, his mind whirling with everything that was going on, his gaze unfocused as he walked. He was so lost in thought that it took him a long, long moment to realize that he was no longer alone. His skin prickled and his heart raced as he knew who it was, even without lifting his head.

“You look deeply troubled, Will.” Hannibal said. The sound of his voice both stirred up the turmoil within him and also sent a wave of pleasant calmness through him. The feeling was incredibly intense, unpleasant, and lovely all at once.

“Were you still at the party when Nick showed up?”

“I was.”

“Then you know why I’m tense.” Will snapped, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, still not looking at the figure that walked beside him in the darkness.

“You are behaving as though you have something to be upset about.”

“Don’t I?” Will spat.

“What happened to Cassie Boyle was not your doing.”

“No, but I’m still responsible for knowing what happened to her.”  
“What responsibility is that?”

Will stopped walking and stared up at the starless, cloud-covered sky.

“I should have said something.”  
“To whom? What would you have said? That a spirit creature killed Cassie and left her body for you as a gift? That you and I carved her up and took her from your home to mine in bowls and jars?”  
Will sighed heavily and shut his eyes. He moved them back and forth, wracking his brain, trying to put his finger on the words that he needed. 

Instead, the more he thought about it, the more Hannibal’s logic made sense.

“Fine, there’s nothing I could have said. But the situation still isn’t right.”

“There is nothing you can do about this situation, other than what you have already done.”

Will let his head fall and began walking again, this time staring at his feet. Neither of them spoke again until he reached his door.

“May I come in?”

Will sighed, and finally lifted his eyes to look at Hannibal. He saw his face, pale in the moonlight that filtered through the clouds, impassive as always but for a slight hint of worry in his brow.

“I’d rather be alone tonight.” he said. Hannibal gave him an understanding nod.

“As you desire.”

He reached his hand up to cup Will’s cheek, and to Will’s own surprise, he didn’t pull away. Human contact was the absolute last thing he wanted right now, and yet he found himself leaning into the touch, tilting his head and closing his eyes into the warmth of Hannibal’s palm.

Then it was gone, and he heard Hannibal’s footsteps as they walked down the path away from his house. He turned and went inside, and for the first time in months, slept through the night.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been months since the last time Will was awake before the afternoon. He’d thrown on his coat out of habit, forgetting just how _hot_ the daytime was. Before he was even halfway to Bedelia’s he ripped it off and slung it over his shoulder, squinting in the sunlight as he walked.

When he got to her liquor store, he was so early she hadn’t opened up yet. The sign read “Open in the evenings.” He snorted, then paused. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

People stared at him as he walked down main street, though a few gave him forced smiles and hellos, and that was new. He didn’t much care for it and hoped this whole hero business would wear off quickly. Before he realized it he’d already walked through town and was heading down the road towards the Verger lands. He supposed that was fine enough of a place to be going. He wanted to make sure Abigail was alright after Nick slugged her in the face.

Just on the outskirts of town, where the main road turned from well-trampled to grassy, he stopped at Molly Foster’s farmstand, mostly because he hadn’t eaten anything and was getting a little hungry.

“Well, well, well. Will Graham.” she said, walking out from the shed by the road towards the table where her vegetables were displayed for sale. For years Jack had been trying to get her to move her vegetable stand closer to town but she was much like Will in her preference for the quietness of nature. It had made everyone think they were the perfect pair. And frankly, they should have been.

Will still wasn’t exactly sure why he’d never pursued anything with her after those few dates when they were teenagers; though in comparing his feelings for her with the way Hannibal made him feel, he was glad he hadn’t, now.

“What brings you all the way out here?” she asked as he inspected the apples, looking for the most appetizing snack. 

“Going to visit Abigail. She’s staying with the Vergers.” he said. Molly nodded.

“Yes, I’ve seen her passing by in their carriages. Nice of them to take her in, as she has no one else. And sweet of you to be looking after her.”

Will gave a quick smile and picked out three apples for himself.

“Why don’t you bring her a gift? That’d be nice.” Molly suggested, pointing to some bouquets of flowers. He shrugged and picked one. Molly told him the price and he dug out some coins and then there was an awkward silence for a moment.

“Well, it’s good to see you again. Will you be by more often, visiting Abigail?” she said. He forced a smile. 

“I suppose so.”

She gave a stilted nod, and a smile that he was sure she gave to all her customers.

“Well, it will be nice to see you now and then.” she said. He gave her a nod and a tight smile.

“You too, Molly.”

He picked up the bouquet of flowers and headed back down the road, then tried to put her out of his mind for the rest of the walk to the Verger Estate.

He walked up the carved marble steps to the large, ornate front door and knocked, bouquet of flowers clasped tightly in his fist. A servant answered and informed him the Ladies Verger were out riding, would he like to come in for some refreshments while he waited?

“Actually, I’m here to visit Abigail.” he said. The door was opened for him and he was led up a large, wide marble staircase, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls in the large entranceway. Then up a second flight of wooden stairs and down a hall, to a room with slanted ceilings and a lovely view of the pasture out the window.

Abigail was sitting at a desk, leaning over a large book, and appeared to be intensely studying.

The servant knocked gently on the frame of the open door.

“Miss Hobbs, you have a visitor.”

She turned around and her face immediately brightened.

“Will!” she cried, leaping from her chair to run and give him a tight hug. He hugged her back with his free arm, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

“Here, I brought these for you.” he said, holding up the flowers.

Her smile was delighted, and she took them happily and turned them over, smelling each of the different types of flowers.

“I love them, thank you.” she said.

“I shall fetch a vase.” the servant responded, and scurried off down the hall.

“Will, what are you doing here?” Abigail asked him, walking over to sit on her bed and gesturing for Will to do the same.

“I came to see how you’re doing, after Nicholas slugged you in the face last night…”

“Oh, can everybody stop fussing? I’m fine! Not even a black eye.”

Will gave her a quick look anyway, inspecting her face with his fingers before returning to hold her hands. When he brushed back her hair he noticed that her bandage had been changed.

“So Alana and Margot are taking good care of you?”

“Yes, the best care.” she said. “They’re giving me an education.” She nodded towards the desk with the pile of books on it. “I’m learning to ride, and to do mathematics, and all new kinds of ways of cooking, besides the roasting Dad taught me.”

“That’s great, Abigail.” Will said, and his heart felt warm. He really loved Alana. Not at all the way he loved Hannibal, but it was love, just the same.

“And I’ve been helping take care of the baby.” she said brightly. “I think secretly they’re hoping to make a bride out of me.”

Will laughed at that; not at the thought itself, but at Abigail’s face when she said it, as if getting married was the last thing on her mind. He could understand that; until now he’d never considered it as a future for himself, either.

Wait, what? Until now? What on earth was he thinking?

“Will?” she asked, after he’d remained still and silent for a long while.

He blinked and came back to her, forcing a smile to his face, but she wasn’t fooled.

“You were thinking about something.” she whispered. “And you looked terrified of it.”

He tried to force his smile to appear more genuine, which only made his act even more transparent.

“It’s okay, I have nightmares about it, too.” she said. She leaned in and whispered even more softly. “I want to show you something.”

She rose and walked towards a bookshelf beside her desk, shoving some books aside to pull one out from behind the others. She sat beside Will and flipped through the pages, biting her lower lip as she looked for the page she wanted.

“Here.” she said, holding it up, the chapter marked by a fold in the corner of the page.

_Chapter Eight: Forest Demons_

Will’s fingers shook as he clasped the book, his brow furrowing.

_“There are several types of known forest demons. Some are benevolent, some mischievous, some malicious. The greatest, and most feared of all is, however, the Wendigo, King of Demons. All other demons live under it, and either bow to its wishes or are careful not to cross it. Humans would be wise to do the same. Wendigos are as uncommon as they are powerful. Most forests are thought to be safe from their terror. Their magic is powerful, attracting lesser demons and spirits to live in their lands. If a forest seems otherworldly, such as day and night lasting too long, or seasons lasting not long enough, an_ _d if it is inhabited by an unusual number of other spirits, one can assume that this territory is ruled by a Wendigo.”_

Will’s entire face turned pale. His fingers shook more as he read, until the pages rattled and he had to rest the book on his knees.

“Will?” Abigail asked, looking up at him with concern.

“It’s uh. Just a bit unnerving.”

Abigail nodded, her brows furrowing.

“So you agree with me, then. The Southern Forest sounds exactly like this.”

“Where it’s always winter.” Will whispered. His mind immediately went to the spirit that had left him Cassie’s body.

“Is there a description?” he asked. Abigail shook her head.

“Not much.”

She turned the page and pointed to a paragraph.

_“Few have seen a Wendigo and survived. Those who have survived are left forever changed, cursed by it. Accounts of its appearance vary greatly; it is most likely able to change its appearance and shape. One aspect that there is agreement upon is that it is pure black, without a spot of color on it anywhere.”_

Will dropped the book.

“Will, it’s okay!” Abigail said, reaching out her hands to clasp his now, in a turn of comfort. “It didn’t get us. We didn’t even see it. I feel like the Ravenstag protected us. It’s listed as one of the good spirits. It healed me, even. I think we’re safe. I just…I wanted to show someone who…who would believe it was real, like me.”

Will nodded, reaching up with an arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He tried to calm his nerves, for Abigail’s sake. He gave her a shaky smile and her hands a tight squeeze.

“You’re right. And you’re plenty safe; you live farthest of anyone from the Southern Forest, here.”

Abigail gave him a worried smile, then looked down at her knees. He wasn’t sure if he was comforting her anymore. Instead he felt like he was frightening her.

“Do you mind if I borrow this?” he asked. She nodded eagerly, almost as if she was the one who was trying to comfort _him_.

“Sure. I’ve already read it. It just made me feel better, knowing that what we saw was…real.”

He tucked it into the inside of his jacket, feeling the exact opposite of better, and wishing that he didn’t know just exactly how real it all was.

* * *

On his way home, Will decided he’d rather not walk through town again, so he cut over to the west and took a trail he knew well. It looked strange in the daylight; almost unfamiliar, since the shadows cast by the setting sun were not the ones he was used to seeing by the moonlight. He was musing over the fact that what he’d thought was a large boulder was actually three rocks piled on top of each other when he heard the faint echo of a voice screaming through the trees.

“Cassieeeeee!!!!”

His blood turned cold and he stilled.

“Cassieeeeee!!!!”

One lone, single voice crying through the woods, searching for his sister. Will’s brow furrowed and guilt clawed at him. Subconsciously he changed direction and started walking towards the voice, reminding himself that soon it would be dark and he’d easily be able to find his way home, then.

Nick must have been sprinting in spurts, as Will kept a pretty good pace and still seemed to not be catching up with him. He pushed himself a little faster, until finally he saw him as he crested over a low hill, about half a mile away.

Will followed him at a distance for a bit, suddenly unsure why he’d come this way. Hannibal was right; what was he going to say? Yet the urge that he should say _something_ wouldn’t fade from him, so he followed, until Nick turned around and saw him.

He stopped, and Will lifted a hand in a wave. He didn’t return the gesture, but remained where he was until Will caught up with him, the golden light from the setting sun splashing on the leaves and tree trunks behind him.

“Well if it isn’t the man who would rather have the town celebrate than help me find my sister.” Nick spat.

“That party wasn’t my idea, and you know it.” Will responded. “And for what it’s worth, I believe you that Cassie is in trouble.”

There. At least that was mostly the truth, and should have been a bit comforting.

“Well, thank you.” he said, if a bit awkwardly. Until now, Will wasn’t sure the two of them had ever actually spoken to each other.

“Did you come to help me look for her, then?”

Will’s mouth faltered. He tried to hide it.

“Yes.” he said, the guilt creeping its way up his throat, making the word come out in a crack.

Nick nodded.

“Well, thanks. I haven’t tried south yet, but since you’re great at surviving against those beasts, why don’t we head that way?”

That was the absolute last direction Will wanted to travel in, but he nodded once, and Nick turned, shouting Cassie’s name every few steps at the top of his lungs. 

The sun disappeared below the horizon, and Will started to feel a chill in the air. Finally making use of his coat he threw it on, walking a few steps behind Nick, wondering what in the hell he was doing. When it was nearly dark, they reached the edge where a dusting of snow was on the ground, and Nick came to an abrupt halt.

“You haven’t called her name once.” he said, turning around to face Will, angry.

Will paused, his breath clouding the air in front of him as he tried to think.

“I just…don’t want to attract whatever might live nearby…we’re unarmed.”

Nick frowned for a moment, processing that.

“Actually, _I’m_ plenty armed.” he said, reaching towards his belt and pulling out a knife. “I’m not that stupid.”

Will nodded and gave him a tight smile, but he didn’t continue walking.

“You didn’t call for her when we were in the west woods, either.” he stated, suspicion falling across his features. “Why are you really here, Will? Did Jack send you?”

Will snorted.

“As if I would ever do something at Jack’s bidding.”

Nick sneered.

“Oh? From the looks of things last night, you two seemed very buddy-buddy. You know I had to spend the night in jail, for hitting your precious surrogate daughter.”

Will’s features turned angry then.

“If you lay a single hand on her ever again…”

“You’ll what, harm my sister in return?! Well guess what, she’s nowhere to be found! It’s starting to seem more and more like I’m the only one who cares about her!”

Will’s anger boiled up in him then. He’d been trying to _comfort_ this bastard; he’d forgotten what a prick Nick actually was.

“It’s not like she was a very likable person!” he snapped, and he realized his mistake when he watched the expression on Nick’s face change from anger to shock.

“ _Was_? You know something, don’t you?” he said, stepping forward. Will took a step back, his eyes darting to the knife in his hands.

“I don’t, it’s just like I said earlier, I believe you that something happened…”

Nick’s face darkened and his steps towards Will grew heavier.

“No. You _know_ something. You know what happened to her. You _did_ it, didn’t you? You killed my sister!”

Nick lunged with the blade and Will jumped to the side. It missed him by a hair, but Nick continued lunging, Will backing up, his eyes following Nick’s arm, trying to find an opening. When Nick lost his footing on the next swing Will raised his fist to his face, clocking him in the side of the head. Nick’s reaction was quick, the blade slicing back across Will’s knuckles. He didn’t flinch, but used his other hand to grab his wrist, and they wrestled for the knife, Nick pressing it forward with all of his might towards Will’s face.

He slipped on wet leaves and fell into the powdered snow, Nick on top of him. Blood dripped down his hand, the sting making his grip weaker than he needed it to be. Nick screamed with rage and pressed down with his whole weight, the blade nearly brushing Will’s nose.

Then from out of the darkening night, a horrifying, marrow-rattling screech tore through the air. The sound made Nick turn in terror, his eyes darting amongst the black trunks in the darkness, searching for the thing that had made the sound. Will took advantage of his distraction and wrested the knife from him. Nick turned back to him with surprise, and Will easily lifted up his wrist to slash the blade across his throat.

Blood poured forth from Nick’s arteries, pulsing hot over Will’s face. He tilted his chin up to keep it from going in his eyes, clutching the knife tightly in his hand as he heard the rustle in the leaves as the thing headed for them. 

Out of the shadows it roared, a hideous demon on four legs, pure black, with no head, but antlers rising from where the shoulderblades were. Then the shoulderblades split open to reveal rows of impossibly thin, sharp teeth, over six inches long, which it sank into Nick’s torso. It tossed its mouth up, flicking his corpse high into the air, where he crashed among the dead branches of the trees, twigs and snow raining down on top of Will. Nick’s corpse landed in its mouth and it crunched its teeth together, his legs falling to one side, his arms to the other, the rest of him swallowed in one bite.

It turned to look at Will, Nick’s blood dripping from its mouth, and opened its eyes. They were pure, nearly blinding, white. Will stared at it, trembling in fear, his fingers clasping the knife desperately in his hand. It cocked its head and walked towards him, a long, black tongue emerging to lick the blood from its jaws. Will tried to crawl backward, but found himself pinned up against a tree, trapped.

Then it began to shift. The shadows moved, the blackness rearranged. It rose onto its hind legs, and its forelegs became arms. The head emerged from the shoulders, the mouth sliding up with the eyes to form a semblance of a face, its horns growing and branching, until it towered over Will, at least nine feet tall.

It stared down at him silently. Will remained absolutely still, eyes wide with terror, every muscle in his body trembling as he clutched the knife.

The demon… _Wendigo_ …reached out one of its abhorrently long arms towards his face. Will froze and shut his eyes. Something sharp raked over his cheek, leaving a wound that burned to the touch. It settled there, its claws resting on his cheek, and stayed. Neither of them moved for a very long time, until Will finally dared open his eyes again.

He looked right into its gaping, formless face.

“What…do you want, with me?” he managed to croak.

The Wendigo’s claws scraped lightly over his face, its thumb tracing over his lips, and Will considered biting it…then realized how stupid that would be.

It inhaled for a long time, sucking air in between its teeth in a rush so great Will felt it, and then _spoke_.

“Protect.” it said, and Will stared up at it with disbelief and horror. It’s voice sounded like the scratching of twigs against dry leaves, little more than a whisper, and yet as loud as the wind.

“Why? Why me?” he said.

The claws raked their way up to his forehead, there was a bright flash of yellow light, and Will _saw_.

He saw Garret holding the knife to Abigail’s throat. Saw the Ravenstag, standing close in front of them, but they were standing in reversed places, with the stag on his left instead of his right.

Then he saw the leaves rustle, and saw _himself_ appear from the brush, musket pointed and at the ready.

He heard Garret’s crazy ranting, and Abigail’s plea for help. He watched himself not even hesitate to kill Garret. And he felt _pleasure_ at watching himself do so. Felt _delight_.

“No. I had to.” he said.

The Wendigo snarled, and there was a bright flash of yellow light, and Will saw Nick atop him, pressing the knife to his face. Saw Nick turn to stare at the Wendigo, saw himself rip the knife from his hand and slice his throat without hesitation.

“I was only defending myself, I…”

There was a third flash of yellow light, and Will saw himself now, half lying, half hunched against the tree, his face covered in Nick’s blood, his body drenched with it.

“I don’t _like_ it!” Will cried, forcing his eyes open, and the monster’s point of view was gone from his vision. “I didn’t _want_ those things to happen!”

The Wendigo regarded him for a long moment, cocking its head to the side, keeping its clawed hand pressed to Will’s face. Will started to shiver, not from fear but from the cold, as he was improperly dressed for winter, wearing nothing but his coat.

The Wendigo pulled its hand back and rose to its full height, the branches of its antlers rattling the trees above it. 

Then it reached to the ground and picked up Nick’s limbs, two in each claw. Slowly, it extended the one holding Nick’s arms towards him and opened its fingers, offering Will the limbs.

“No! I don’t want it!” he cried with anger, which was probably a very stupid thing to say, but he couldn’t keep his rage and disgust from voicing itself. 

The Wendigo retracted its arm slowly, curling the claws back around Nick’s arms until it held them in its clutches once more. It regarded Will for a moment more, then turned and walked off into the shadows, its footsteps fading far too soon, until Will heard nothing but the wind and was left to shiver in a freezing pool of Nick Boyle’s blood.


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal opened his back door to reveal a shivering, blood-caked Will, arms clutched over his chest as his teeth chattered.

“Will! Are you alright?” he asked, his voice maddeningly calm, though there was a trace of worry in his eyebrows. He reached up an arm and put it around Will’s shoulders, not seeming to care about the blood flaking and smearing onto his night robe. He guided Will on shaky legs into his house and to the kitchen, where he helped him sit in a chair at the table.

“Will, are you injured?” he said, his doctor’s hands flitting over Will’s body, trying to determine if the blood was his. 

Will held up a trembling right hand, the gash across his knuckles still oozing, unable to stop the shivers that wracked his body, even though he was out of the frigid winter cold now.

Hannibal lifted his hand and uncurled it gently, the warmth of his fingers on Will’s hand spreading up his arm. 

“Here, let’s get this off.” Hannibal said, unfastening the buttons down the front of Will’s coat. His eyes searched Will’s shirt as he removed it, his shoulders relaxing when he saw that most of the blood was on the outside of the coat. 

“This blood isn’t yours.” Hannibal said.

“N…no. N…Nick Boyle’s.” Will managed.

Hannibal bent his knees until he crouched at Will’s feet, making it so that Will looked down at him. In the firelight from the open stove, his face glowed yellow and warm, and Will found it extremely comforting.

“I’m…it…I saw it…” he tried.

“We will have time later to discuss what has happened.” Hannibal said, lowering his head to look as he untied Will’s boots, slowly easing his feet out of them. The gesture was one that should have made Will feel uncomfortable; he didn’t enjoy being pampered by anyone. Yet the way Hannibal did it didn’t make him feel haughty, probably because he looked for all the world like he _wanted_ to be removing Will’s boots for him.

“For now, we need to get you warm, tend to your wounds. I’ve drawn a hot bath for myself, but in light of this situation I will insist that you take it.”

Will’s eyes finally managed to focus, and he lifted them to see that indeed, Hannibal’s very fancy, white porcelain tub was filled almost to the brim with hot, steaming water. The thought of climbing into it seemed so nice that he didn’t even try to protest. He nodded shakily.

“Good.” Hannibal said, and then his fingers were at the top button of Will’s shirt, deftly undoing it far faster than Will’s shaking hands would have accomplished. The cloth fell open to expose his chest to the cool air of the room, and even through his shivers, Will felt the warmth of a blush rise up his skin to color his cheeks.

“Hannibal…” he said, though he didn’t continue, and said nothing more as Hannibal’s hands slid along his shoulders, brushing his skin as they pushed the cloth of his shirt away. Hannibal stood, and Will unfolded his arms to help him, his pulse rushing to his ears now for a different reason as his shirt slipped from his arms. Hannibal caught it and folded it neatly on the table. Will snorted. It was torn and soaked with blood, what was the point?

Hannibal straightened and made no effort to hide his gaze as it traced over Will’s bare chest, then along his neck, and up to his face.

“I shall leave you to your privacy, then.” he said, and turned to leave. Before he could take a step Will’s good hand flew out to clasp at the sleeve of his night robe, pulling a very surprised Hannibal down for a kiss, crushing their lips together with desperate emotion. Will’s lips eagerly sought him, and he responded with as much enthusiasm, a soft moan bubbling up from his throat. Hannibal’s tongue darted out to trace over Will’s lips, then wandered to the corners of his mouth, flicking over his bloodied skin. A shudder ran through Hannibal at the taste of the blood, and Will found it strangely arousing.

He released his grip on Hannibal’s sleeve and he pulled his lips barely away, and went no further.

“You never cease to surprise me, Will.” he whispered softly, half of his mouth quirked up into an amused smile. 

“Makes two of us.” Will responded, his voice now shaky for two reasons.

“I will be just in the other room.” Hannibal replied. “If you need me, I won’t be far.”

Will nodded, and he left, and Will heard the sound of a fire being lit in the other room.

Steadying himself against the table, Will rose and yanked his pants off, letting them crumple on the floor half inside-out. He stumbled the few steps to the tub, the warmth of the rising steam already calming his nerves even before his foot touched the water.

He sighed as he sank into it, the heat soaking into his trembling bones. The hot water stung the cut across his knuckles and he winced, but then slowly let it sink into the water, where he watched the blood rise up gently in red swirls. It was mesmerizing to watch, the blood oozing from his own body, dirtying the clear water until it mixed together and made everything pink. Slowly the shivers ceased, and he started to relax. Hannibal had folded a towel over the head of the tub, and for once Will was grateful for how much attention to detail he paid. He rested his head against it and closed his eyes briefly, but images of the Wendigo swallowing Nick’s body flashed back to him, and he forced them open again. He took a deep breath and dunked his head, reaching up his hands to scrub at the blood caked in his hair, and stayed under for as long as he was capable of holding his breath.

He emerged with a splash, heaving, and then slowly calmed again, watching the firelight from the stove flicker across the surface of the water, dark wisps of steam rising into the air.

For the second time in two days, Will was washing human blood from his body. His chest tightened from guilt, and anxiousness crept into his mind as he tried to think of what in hell he was going to tell Hannibal. 

He lay in the tub until the water started to turn lukewarm and his fingers started to prune, hoping that perhaps Hannibal would fall asleep waiting for him, and he could avoid reliving the horror of what had happened for a little while longer. He rose and spotted the towel Hannibal must have intended to use for himself resting on a chair beside the tub, neatly folded, softer than any towel Will had ever owned.

“I’ve left you a spare night robe.” Hannibal’s voice called from the other room. Will glanced over at a table just inside the door, where Hannibal must have reached in and placed the folded garment when Will wasn’t looking. He sighed and draped the towel over his head, rubbing his hair as dry as he could get it to avoid catching another chill. He stepped out and toweled himself down, then pulled the night robe on, feeling completely awkward and very out of place. 

He stepped into the living/examination room, where Hannibal was sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire. Will sat in the other across from him, feeling completely out of his element.

“How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked, nothing but concern in his voice.

“Better, thank you.” he said quietly. 

“I’m going to assume you had another encounter with your other suitor.” Hannibal said, rising to stand beside Will’s chair. He slid an end table until it was beside Will, and placed a bowl of water on top of it. Will couldn’t be bothered with posture. He slumped in his chair.

“Do you have to call it that? It’s a monster, Hannibal.”

Hannibal pressed his lips tightly together and didn’t reply. Instead he gently took Will’s gashed hand and lifted it, slowly lowering it into the bowl of warm water.

“It stings.”

“This water has medicine in it.” was the explanation, and indeed, the pain started to fade a few seconds later. He closed his eyes from exhaustion, his attention on the feel of Hannibal’s fingers pressed against his palm, warm even in the warm water.

“This is the third time I’ve bandaged you in as many days.” Hannibal said, and Will opened his eyes with a sneer.

“You say that like I’ve been getting hurt on purpose.”

“I have made no such accusation. But one wonders what has happened to you this third time, when I know what the previous two injuries were from.”

Will squeezed his eyes closed and rested his head on the back of the chair. _Oh, nothing of consequence, just killing a man and watching him get eaten by a beast_.

“Please, Will. Don’t keep what happened to yourself. You can trust me.”

Will sighed heavily and closed his eyes, which instantly brought him back to the moment. His eyebrows furrowed and he frowned deeply, his eyes darting back and forth under his lids as he watched the memory.

“I found Nick wandering in the woods.” he began. “I wanted…” he paused, sighed heavily, and opened his eyes only to stare at the floor. “I wanted to say _something_ to him, Hannibal. So I told him I believed him about something having happened to Cassie. But I’m not much of a liar, and he figured out pretty quickly that I’d _done_ something to her.”

“You feel responsible for Cassie’s death.” Hannibal offered. Will sighed and lifted his head, but shifted his eyes to the ceiling, still avoiding eye contact. 

Hannibal brought a soft cloth into the water and began rubbing it over the gash. Will could feel it, but it didn’t hurt, didn’t even sting. Whatever medicine Hannibal was using, it was the good stuff.

“Yes, in a way, I do.” he confessed.

Hannibal didn’t reply, so after a moment, Will continued.

“We were on the edge of the Southern Forest when he figured it out, and attacked me with his knife. We fought, he won, and I think he might have killed me if…”

Will looked down at the fingers of his good hand, which clasped the arm of the chair he sat in.

“It protected me.”

Hannibal lifted Will’s hand from the water, rested it on a towel beside the bowl, and patted it dry.

“It disposed of your enemy.” he said.

“It _ate_ him, Hannibal.”

“It killed him, then.”

Will’s mouth pressed into a thin, tight line. He lifted his eyes then and stared directly into Hannibal’s gaze, piercing and confident when he next spoke.

“No. I did.”

He waited for a reaction. There was none, so he elaborated.

“The Wendigo screeched from behind him, and when Nick turned to look, I sliced his throat.”

Hannibal’s eyes were fathomless pools of brown, and Will found himself getting lost in them. He shouldn’t have felt so drawn, especially _now_ , when he was confessing to something so…unethical.

“So that is the reason you were so covered in his blood.”

Neither moved. Neither blinked. Their eyes remained locked upon each other.

“Yes.”

Will felt Hannibal’s gaze pierce into his mind and travel down his spine. It gave him the impression that Hannibal saw more than he let on, more than he wanted him to. He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes with thought.

“You’re not horrified.”

Hannibal began to move again, pressing the end of a roll of bandages to Will’s palm and wrapping with expert precision.

“You are safe. Whatever its intentions are with others, it’s made itself clear when it comes to you. It protected you, when otherwise Nick might have gotten the upper hand. I can only be satisfied with this outcome.”

Will frowned and stared into the fire, trying to make sense of everything. He couldn’t stop from swallowing thickly, nor keep the trembling from his hand as Hannibal held it.

“What else are you keeping from me?” Hannibal asked, and in his tone Will thought he heard a hint of…hurt.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I…”

“You fear there is something you could tell me which would make me no longer desire you.”  
Heat prickled up Will’s cheeks at the word ‘desire’. He was normally overwhelmed by emotions; he thought he was used to it, by now, but whenever Hannibal was involved, he was ten times more helpless to them.

“I’m not a normal person, Hannibal…”

He felt Hannibal’s fingers clasp his chin and tilt his head upwards to face him.

“That is precisely why I am attracted to you.”

The blush in Will’s cheeks grew stronger. The air grew thick, and his nostrils flared wide as they tried to get more air. 

“You don’t care if I’ve killed people.” Will whispered. “It doesn’t concern you at all.”

Hannibal’s eyes traced over his face, grazing over his cheeks, over his forehead, and down to his lips, where they lingered. The arousal on his features was unmistakable. Will lifted his good hand up to cradle the fingers Hannibal had on his chin, and he slipped his palm around to cup Will’s cheek. Will was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to be closer to him. He stood up, and Hannibal pulled him in, his other arm sliding around his back.

“Actually, I take that back.” Will whispered softly, their faces inches from each other, bodies pressed close with only thin night robes separating them. “You like it.”

It was Hannibal’s turn to be unable to control his reaction. His swallow was thick, his breathing ragged. If Will had been using his brain, he might have made a different decision, but his mind wasn’t present. He pressed his lips to Hannibal’s and was immediately taken in, Hannibal’s lips parted to suck, his tongue darting out to lick. Will groaned and folded into him, wrapping his other arm around Hannibal’s back. Hannibal exhaled and Will breathed him in, noticing for the first time just how good he smelled. Their tongues caressed each other, tasting lips, slow and deep. Will’s heart picked up pace, pounding strong and wild. He felt Hannibal’s fingers curl into his hair and he melted further into him, needing nothing more in the universe than to be here.

They pulled back slowly. Hannibal’s hand snaked around again to stroke against Will’s cheek, his eyes searching his face.

“You are marked.” he breathed, and Will gave him a curious look, not understanding. Hannibal’s fingers tickled over Will’s face, tracing along his cheek exactly where the Wendigo had touched him, then up to his forehead, tracing a line just under his hair.

“Hannibal?” he asked, fear creeping back into him, finding its way in amongst the lust, leaving him with a very strange swirl of emotions.

“It has marked you.” he said, and Will tried to discern any tone from Hannibal; any hint at all as to his emotions about the situation, but there was nothing.

“What does that mean?” Will asked, voice shaky, knowing that somehow, Hannibal would _know_.

“Nothing else may touch you.” Hannibal said. “It would be a death sentence for anything that stirred a hair on your head.”

Will’s eyes grew wide and he tried to back away, suddenly worried that if the Wendigo saw him with _Hannibal_ …

Hannibal’s arm tightened around his back and kept him close.

“I have permission.” Hannibal replied, his voice fierce and gravelly. Will’s heart beat faster, half from fear, half from desire. 

“How do you know?” Will said softly, his mind scrambling to understand, his thoughts whispering to him that Hannibal knew more than he was letting on; that he knew more than he _should,_ that this was something to worry about.

“The creature and I have…an understanding.” Hannibal said simply, pulling away from Will and turning to the bowl of bloody water to pick it up. 

“What…what the hell does that mean?!” Will cried as Hannibal calmly walked towards the kitchen and dumped the water down the drain. Hannibal turned back and picked up the bloody cloths from the end table, his face as still as stone.

“Hannibal!” Will snapped, crossing his arms, and Hannibal froze in his movements, one hand clutching a fistful of bloody cloth, the other slack at his side. He turned halfway towards Will, but didn’t face him, leaving Will to stare at his profile.

“You’re constantly going on about me not keeping secrets from you, and you think you can keep secrets from me?”

Will’s own words surprised him. It wasn’t the logical reaction. The logical reaction was to be horrified and to run.

Instead he was angry that he was being left out of the loop. 

Hannibal continued to stare at the wall in front of him.

“I fear that revealing too much, too soon would chase you from me.” he said. Will found himself rolling his eyes.

“Right. Because carving up corpses and you licking blood off my face wouldn’t have done that.”

Will watched Hannibal wince at his second accusation. Will snorted.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?”

With a heavy sigh, Hannibal placed the bloodied cloths on the examination table and turned to face Will fully.

“There is much I haven’t told you.”

Will rolled his eyes.

“Well start.”

Hannibal walked towards one of the armchairs and sat, gesturing for Will to sit in the other. He went, uncrossing his arms as he did so, trying to look as trustworthy as possible.

Hannibal took a deep breath.

“In my many years as a doctor, I’ve come across…”

“Don’t.” Will cut him off. “Don’t lie. Don’t embellish. Don’t explain. If you’re not comfortable telling me everything, then leave it out, but no more lies, Hannibal. Not if you want this relationship to work.”

“I do.” he said, his eyes meeting Will’s for the first time since their kiss, his gaze strong and certain.

Will met his gaze just as sincerely.

“Then _trust_ me, Hannibal.”

For the first time, Will watched cracks form in the perfectly still expression that Hannibal always wore. He saw his desire to do exactly that.

He took a long, slow, deep breath, never taking his eyes from Will’s face.

“The Wendigo, as you refer to it, is with me wherever I go.” Hannibal began. Will’s forehead unwrinkled and he sat back as he tried to process that information. 

“But it causes the Southern Forest to always be winter…”

Hannibal nodded.

“It does.”

Will furrowed his brow.

“But it’s _always_ been winter in the Southern Forest, as long as anyone in the town can remember. But you…you’ve only been here ten years.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Hannibal, that doesn’t make any sense.”

Hannibal leaned forward and folded his hands calmly over his knees. How he managed to look completely proper, even in bedclothes, was at once annoying and attractive.

“Much of what I am going to tell you will not make sense.” Hannibal said. “But as I have promised, it is the truth, except for omissions.”

Will searched his face, watching emotion stirring there, just under the surface. He nodded.

“It is with me, wherever I go.” Hannibal repeated. “I understand its behaviors, and it understands mine. We know each other quite well.”

Will frowned, struggling to understand, sensing that Hannibal was omitting a _lot_ , nearly everything.

But he was honored to be trusted with at least this much, and he wasn’t going to throw it away.

“Is it…evil?” Will asked.

“Evil is a matter of perspective.” Hannibal replied. “It deeply enjoys feasting upon human flesh, though I imagine you’ve figured that out for yourself.”

A shiver ran down Will’s spine as he remembered the Wendigo swallowing Nick’s body in one gulp, and recalled the chunks of flesh missing from Cassie’s corpse.

For a moment, Will considered asking if that was the reason Hannibal had become a doctor. But before the question was even out of his mouth, he already knew the answer was no.

“You’ve watched it eat people your whole life.” he stated, instead.

Hannibal nodded once.

“You’re used to it.”

The flicker of a smile at the corner of Hannibal’s lips told Will it was more than that. 

“The creature and I share very similar desires, Will.” he said. His voice was gravelly and rough, the same tone he took when he was just about to kiss Will. Hungry.

Will lifted his eyes to stare directly into Hannibal’s, and found himself getting lost in the depth of them. He was beginning to realize that he enjoyed it.

“And what desires are those?” he asked softly, his voice just as rough, giving away just how much he was not bothered by this conversation.

“Many.” Hannibal replied. “But the one that appears most obvious is the desire for you, of course.”

Will didn’t reply, though the flush to his cheeks was answer enough.

“Desire me…in what way?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyelids falling lower in a facial expression he was certain he’d never made before in his life. Suddenly, he didn’t care about monsters, or murders, or magical forest demons. The way Hannibal was gazing at him was something he’d never experienced before, and he didn’t want to think about anything else.

Hannibal rose slowly, his eyes locked to Will’s as he stepped around the table and extended his hand.

“Come to my bed, Will.” he said, his voice thick, his breath heavy. “Spend the night with me. And in the morning, I will answer many more of your questions.”

The tone in Hannibal’s voice easily pulled Will’s mind away from the complicated conversation. His heart beat faster as he took Hannibal’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, without even considering that he could have said no. He felt so incredibly drawn, drowning in the brown eyes that gazed at him, so buried in attraction that he felt drunk. His smile was crooked and flirtatious as Hannibal pulled him in close.

“Why Dr. Lecter.” he said. “That is very forward of you.”

Hannibal gave him a mischievous smirk and led Will across the room to a door that was always closed. He opened it, and Will was surprised to find a fire roaring in the fireplace, as if it were recently lit, then reminded himself that Hannibal had probably stoked it while he was in the bath.

He shut the door softly behind him and gestured towards the bed. Will spent a brief moment taking in the room, observing the various antlers mounted on one wall, and two framed paintings hanging on another. Then he turned to the bed, where Hannibal stood on the other side of it. He watched him pull the nightgown over his head and let it fall to the floor in one, smooth motion, revealing a body that was far more muscular than Will had imagined. The sight of it set his heart racing, his eyes tracing down to stare at the nest of hair and cock hanging flaccid in front of his balls. Will closed his eyes, and ignoring the pounding of his heart, reached down to pull his own nightgown over his head.

He let it fall and kept his eyes closed for a long moment, feeling Hannibal’s gaze raking over him anyway. Heat flushed to his cheeks and raced between his legs, making him start to get hard just from the _thought_ of being touched.

“Exquisite.” Hannibal said, his voice _pleased_ , and Will opened his eyes to find them captured by those magnetic brown irises that he seemed unable to escape from.

Hannibal moved first, climbing atop the bed, and Will followed, meeting him in the middle.

Softly, Hannibal lay down on his side to face him, and Will did the same, not nearly as nervous as he’d expected to be. Hannibal lifted his palm to cup his cheek tenderly in a gesture that Will was becoming familiar with. They leaned into the kiss together, Hannibal’s mouth hungry and earnest, his lips devouring Will’s with every stroke, his tongue sweeping over him in deep, long tastes.

The hand that held Will’s cheek slid along his neck and down his chest, tracing over his skin, feeling him, learning him. Will shivered at Hannibal’s warm touch, forgetting how to use his own hands, his mind so entirely occupied by Hannibal’s lips, Hannibal’s fingers. They grazed along his stomach and up his side, tickling him, making his skin burn everywhere Hannibal touched. His palm slid over his ass and he squeezed it, prompting a surprised gasp from Will, which made Hannibal smile.

“Beautiful.” Hannibal whispered into his lips.

Will’s eyes could hardly focus, so devoured by Hannibal’s lips he was. When he pulled them away he whined a complaint. Hannibal gave him a flirtatious glance and rolled atop him. Will’s heart raced as he felt the weight of Hannibal’s naked body press down over him, bare skin against bare skin, crushing him to the bed. His eyes flicked up to Hannibal’s face and found that finally, there was a pink flush to his cheeks. Will’s cock was squeezed between their warm bodies, as was Hannibal’s, just alongside it. Will groaned and tilted his chin upwards, his eyes fluttering closed, his mouth trembling.

Hannibal’s breath slid over his throat and he lowered his lips to press against the side of Will’s neck. Will keened softly as heat prickled up his skin, alighting the tips of his ears. Hannibal opened his mouth and licked Will’s neck with a long, languid drag of his tongue, before he closed his lips and sucked the skin into his mouth. The cry that escaped Will’s lips was shaky and desperate, his hands able to do nothing more than clasp the blanket they lay upon.

Hannibal’s lips moved slowly down Will’s neck, sucking deep bruises into his skin. Will’s body alternated between melting into butter and tensing as Hannibal’s fingers ghosted over the sides of his stomach. Hannibal raised himself up onto all fours and continued his devouring path across Will’s body, sucking on his clavicle as his fingers teased over Will’s hips.

“H…Han…ibal.” Will managed through his labored panting, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath thick and heavy.

“Mmm?” Hannibal responded, his mouth full of Will’s flesh, his teeth grazing over his shoulder.

“I’ve…never had…a lover, before.” he said, more heat flushing to his cheeks, if that was even possible.

“And you shall never have another, if I have my way.” Hannibal purred into his ear, his hand tracing gentle circles on Will’s thigh, his fingers brushing so close to his erection that he could feel the heat coming from them, but not touching.

“I just…don’t know what I’m doing.” he said softly.

Hannibal rose up and placed his other hand to cradle his head, his fingers tangling in his hair.

“The only thing there is for you to do is feel good, Will.” he said, his eyes burning pools of blackness that reflected the orange firelight. Will’s heart raced faster and he found himself unable to hold Hannibal’s gaze, choosing instead to look down at their bodies pressed closely together, Hannibal lying just to the side of him, his cock held tightly against Will’s hip. “And to tell me if you do not. I only desire what you are willing to give, nothing more.”

At that, the tension melted away from Will and left him free to feel. He closed his eyes and thought about the feel of Hannibal pressed beside him; his fuzzy legs resting alongside his, his very warm pelvis pressed to his hip, his cock pressed into his side. Will suddenly had a desire to touch it, and finally made use of his own hands as he rolled onto his side and slid his fingers down Hannibal’s chest, tickling them through his hair, their faces so close their noses pressed together.

“Can I touch you?” Will whispered, skin burning from lust and shyness.

“I would greatly enjoy that, yes.”

Will pulled himself back a bit to see what he was doing, fingers awkwardly sliding down along Hannibal’s shaft. It was warm, so warm; so flushed and full just from kissing Will. He wrapped his palm around the base and slid his hand up. An immediate gasp caught in Hannibal’s throat, and Will raised his eyes to see his face lost, his lids nearly closed, his skin deeply flushed. Will slid his palm up to a better position and clasped, and began to stroke.

He watched Hannibal come undone under his fingers. The face that was normally so infuriatingly calm was now enraptured and lost to pleasure. Hannibal’s features were full of _expression_ , his mouth open as pleased moans whispered from between his lips. Will tilted his head forward and placed kisses to Hannibal’s neck, first tentative, then more forceful. The deep groan that rumbled from Hannibal’s chest sent Will’s heart galloping, and he moved his hand faster now, eager, his mind solely focused on _how much_ pleasure Hannibal was feeling, because of him.

Hannibal’s eyes slid open lazily, and for a long moment they only gazed at each other. Hannibal lifted a shaky hand and placed it on Will’s cheek, his thumb stroking his jawbone.

“May I…touch you…in return?” he asked, and Will ducked his head into Hannibal’s chest, hiding his face from burning shyness, and nodded.

He felt fingers brush over the tip of his cock, and his whimper was loud and trembling. He forgot entirely about his hand on Hannibal, because he forgot entirely about all the rest of his body, every bit of attention he had suddenly drawn to the electric sensation between his legs. Hannibal’s fingers gently encircled the head, squeezing, making Will cry out from how sensitive he was. His warm palm slid down over the head, making Will shiver, until he took his shaft in his grasp and pulled.

His strokes were even and steady, slow and deliberate. Will’s entire body slowly curled in on itself, pressing him harder into Hannibal, where his fingers desperately grasped at his sides to pull him closer. He started to buck his hips, chasing the pleasure, needing to make it grow. Hannibal obliged him, pumping faster, squeezing harder, until he matched the rhythm of Will’s hips.

“It feels so good…” Will whispered, unbelieving this was happening to him. This was nothing at all like stroking himself, nothing. Hannibal was so warm, so close, touching his body in every place, his breath alive and pouring over his shoulder.

“You are a delight to behold.” Hannibal said softly, and Will shivered at the phrase, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, unable still to believe that someone would think such things about _him_.

“Will.” Hannibal asked, his voice gravelly and heady.

He forced his eyes open and tilted his head up to listen.

“I’d like to stroke us both together.”

Will’s voice betrayed him with more trembling whimpers, his entire self already overwhelmed by more sensations than he could pay attention to. What Hannibal was asking was so incredibly intimate.

He nodded, and felt a hand pressed lightly under his chin, fingers tilting his face up to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“Only if that is what you desire.”

Will lurched forward and pushed his lips to Hannibal’s hungrily, moving his body closer until Hannibal’s hand could easily wrap around them both. He felt Hannibal’s other hand slide back to wrap into his hair, reverently combing through it, teasing his curls. Will looked into his face, their eyes locked as Hannibal opened his hand and clasped it around both of them together.

Will’s voice grew silent as he became overwhelmed, forgetting to think, forgetting everything he knew but this moment. The heat of Hannibal’s cock pressed to his was a new sensation entirely, and his hips bucked without his permission, eager to feel more. Will’s hand rose to clasp Hannibal’s shoulder and pull him close, knuckles turning white from how hard he grasped. He pressed his face into Hannibal’s neck, his breaths thick and fast as he drove his body into increasing the heat, feeling it build deep in his balls.

All his shyness was gone now, chased away by the lust, and Will rutted, a pleased groan escaping his lips when Hannibal began to move his hips as well. Together they fucked themselves up into Hannibal’s tightly clasped fingers, cocks pressed between their bodies, both sweating and panting heavily. Will felt Hannibal grow extremely hard and groaned again, sliding his arm around Hannibal’s back to hold him as closely as he could. The heat in his balls grew into a fire, then into pressure. With a cry he released, his body convulsing from pleasure, wave after wave of golden heat coursing through his every cell until he grew slack in Hannibal’s arms, exhausted.

Hannibal let his cock slip from his fingers and began to stroke himself in earnest. Will moved back just enough to watch his face, watch his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw clench as he pumped himself towards orgasm. The noise that escaped him sounded feral, almost animal, and Will felt the wet warmth of his cum over his stomach, his post-coital, hazed mind making him moan softly at the sensation.

Hannibal’s hand fell to the bed, their messes mingling and dripping down onto the blanket. His other hand still stroked through Will’s hair, and Will looked into his eyes and found affection in them.

“Wow.” Will said, and he watched a smile crack across Hannibal’s lips as he leaned forward to peck a kiss on his cheek.

“You are a delight to me in every way, Will.” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection. “Spend the night with me, in my bed.”

Will pulled back and gave Hannibal a raised eyebrow.

“You had _better_ let me sleep in your bed, after that.” he replied. Hannibal gave him a flirtatious grin and another peck on his forehead. He then rolled to the side of the bed and rose.

“I’ll return shortly.” he said, and Will nodded sleepily. 

With Hannibal gone he felt a chill, despite the fire at the foot of the bed. He slipped under the blanket, ignoring the mess that was all over himself, and did his best to stay awake. 

When Hannibal returned a moment later, having cleaned himself and brought a damp washcloth, he found Will soundly asleep, snoring gently with his face pressed into the pillow. He gave him an adoring smile and then crawled under the covers himself, pulling his messy, sticky, perfect Will tightly into his arms.


	8. Chapter 8

Will blinked his eyes open in the sunlight that filtered in through the cracks in the curtains. A warm smile spread over his cheeks as he looked at the man whose arms were tangled around him. He was perfectly held, the way a child holds a doll, gentle but also fierce and unwilling to let go.

He let his eyes wander over the sleeping face before him, perfectly serene and placid even while unconscious. But now that Will knew him better, he could see the relaxation on his features, the comfort. It made him smile. 

He turned his face to take in the room properly. Above the fireplace hung a proud stag’s head, the rack of antlers large and old, spreading nearly to the ceiling. On both sides of it were more sets of antlers, covering nearly the entire wall, making it almost seem like a forest. Will hadn’t pegged Hannibal for a hunter, and wondered exactly how he’d come across so many prizes.

On the wall farthest from the door hung two framed paintings on either side of a tall wardrobe, and now that Will could see them in the light, they were _beautiful_. One was of a forest, green and lush and alive, ferns and vines twisting up the trunks of trees with flowers peeking out in the oddest places. The other was of a feast; a full banquet, such as Will had never seen, a long, large table set with every kind of food he could name and some he couldn’t. The details on both were incredible. He’d never seen art so fine, not even in Alana and Margot’s mansion.

Will heard the distressed bark and soft scratching again, and realized slowly that was what had woken him up. 

“Arrow?” he called, and the barking grew more insistent, loud enough to disturb Hannibal awake. 

“It’s one of my dogs.” Will said to him apologetically. “He must have been worried when I didn’t come home last night, and tracked me here. I’ll be right back.”

He leaned down and gave Hannibal a kiss on his forehead, which caused a lazy, satisfied smile to spread over his face. Will returned it and rose, padding through the living/examination room to the front door, and opened it.

He was greeted by the very happy licks of a relieved dog, and also the incredibly shocked face of Alana Verger.

“Will?” she asked, her mouth dropping open as she gaped at his naked and disheveled form, her eyes darting involuntarily to his dick, then immediately away, then promptly to the kiss-bruises that lined his neck.

“Alana!” Will cried, immediately jumping behind the door, a fiery blush rising to his cheeks. “Alana, I’m so sorry, I thought…I thought I was answering the door for my dog! I mean, _only_ for my dog!”

“I…uh…um. Well, I’m glad you’re…alright?” she said, her voice sounding as embarrassed as he felt. “I can, um, leave. I only…I was only concerned, because of all that’s going on, and you weren’t home.”

“All of what’s going on?” he asked, at the same moment she said, “I didn’t realize you and Dr. Lecter…”

The commotion had reached Hannibal’s ears, and he emerged from the bedroom wearing a robe, hair neatly combed, looking completely put together. His eyes darted over Will’s body from head to toe, not bothering to hide his pleasure at seeing him naked once again. Then he stepped into the crack of the door and faced Alana.

“My apologies, Mrs. Verger.” he said. “We were not expecting company. But now that you are here, it would be uncouth of me to not invite you in. Please, give Will a moment to gather himself, and then won’t you join us for breakfast?” he said, his tone entirely too calm. Will glared at him from behind the door, shaking his head ‘no’ vigorously.

“I…er. Well this is very awkward…” she began.

“It is, and I dislike an awkward situation as much as anyone.” Hannibal said, taking a step back so that he could face both Alana and Will at the same time. “Which is why I’d prefer to have a civilized conversation at the table, rather than leave things the way they are and send you home this way.”

Will slammed his eyelids shut and forced a swallow down his throat, realizing that Hannibal was right. Of course he owed Alana an explanation after answering the door…in the state he was in. And he also wanted to know what she was meant by “all that was going on.”

He nodded, knowing that had he said no a second time, Hannibal would have found a way to graciously send Alana on her way.

Hannibal gave him a warm smile, one that he realized Alana must have seen, which only deepened the blush in his cheeks.

“Alright.” she said. “Will, take as long as you need. I’ll just wait out here with Arrow.”

“Thank you, Alana. If you’ll excuse us.” Hannibal replied, gently closing the door. Will stood, a shaking, naked mess, and Hannibal pulled him into his arms and held him tightly. He curled into his embrace, angry at himself firstly for feeling so…vulnerable, and secondly, for feeling _so_ comforted by Hannibal’s arms.

Hannibal then let go and took his hand, leading Will back to his bedroom. He was still speechless, and remained so as Hannibal left, then returned with a washing bowl and washcloth. He turned to the wardrobe and began selecting two outfits, and Will started to wash the stickiness from his skin, his cheeks still burning from embarrassment.

“I’m so mortified.” he said softly.

“About Alana seeing you unclothed?” Hannibal asked calmly, pulling out one of his suits with matching jacket and britches, laying them on the bed.

“About Alana finding out about…us…like _this_.” he said. “I was more than just…unclothed, Hannibal.”

Will’s hand reached up to touch the kiss-bruises on his neck. Some of them were tender to the touch, they were so deep. His eyes fluttered closed as he remembered getting them.

“Reminiscing?” Hannibal asked, his voice pleased. Will opened his eyes and tried to glare, but he knew his expression came off more affectionate than anything.

“Yes.” he said. “You marked me…”

His eyes darted to the floor as he drew the connection easily. Seeing connections where no one else did was something that, throughout most of his life, had both gotten him into trouble and also helped him tremendously. It had saved him from the embarrassment of taking his relationships with either Alana or Margot further, as he’d seen their attraction to each other probably before even they themselves did.

His eyes locked onto Hannibal’s face.

“You marked me, just as it marked me.”

Hannibal stopped moving, a pair of britches in one hand, a shirt that he thought would fit Will in the other.

“I did.” Hannibal replied. Will rose, aware that he was _still_ naked, and moved so that he was less than an inch from Hannibal’s face.

“Why?”

Hannibal’s eyes were fathomless and dark.

“To show you are mine.”

Will swallowed thickly at the statement, his heart fluttering when he heard it, overriding his mind, which told him he was supposed to be angry.

Supposed to be, and wasn’t.

“I guess we’re not a secret anymore, are we?”

“I suppose not.”

Will searched Hannibal’s face, but all he saw there was pride and affection. He supposed the town was going to have found out about them one way or another, and maybe it wasn’t so bad that Alana would be the first one to know. Well, after Beverly.

Will walked out of Hannibal’s bedroom feeling almost more awkward in Hannibal’s clothes than he’d felt naked. He was used to stagskin pants and loose linen shirts, and though Hannibal hadn’t made him wear a jacket, stockings and britches still made him feel highly uncomfortable. Hannibal walked to the door and let Alana in, along with Arrow, who wouldn’t be kept outside once he saw his master. 

“Hey, buddy.” Will said, kneeling to greet his most loyal dog, giving his scruff a good rub-down and patting him on his furry head while Arrow wagged his tail furiously. When he rose, Hannibal’s fancy clothes were covered in dog hair, and he felt a little more comfortable. That was until his eyes met Alana’s as she stood in the threshold of the kitchen, arms at her sides like stone.

“Alana, Will. Please, sit.” Hannibal said, gesturing towards the chairs. Will pulled one out, as far from Alana as he could get, and she sat at the end nearest the door. Hannibal busied himself in the kitchen, pulling out pans and rummaging through cabinets as he assembled the ingredients he needed to cook.

Alana glanced awkwardly towards him a few times, then turned her head away to pet Arrow. He happily wagged his tail and gave her a few licks.

“I apologize for my unannounced intrusion.” she said, still keeping her eyes on the dog, scratching him under his chin. “But when I went to go look for you, and you weren’t home, and the dogs were begging me to feed them, well…”

“Did you?” Will asked, sitting up straighter, concern worrying his eyebrows.

Alana rose up straight and looked him in the eyes, then.

“Yes, of course.” she said. “And then I asked Arrow to find you, and he led me here. I was concerned you were hurt. I didn’t even consider there would be another…reason, that you would be here.” she said, her eyes darting to the kissing bruises that trailed down Will’s neck, then flashing back up to his face.

He sighed.

“Yes, we’re lovers.” he said. He saw the corner of Hannibal’s mouth uptick in a pleased smile, and he tried not to roll his eyes. Now was not the time to be flirty.

“How long?” she asked.

“Not long.” he replied, and saw a little relief on her face. “Only a few days, really.”

He saw her relief grow. She’d thought he’d had a lover for a long time and had kept it from her, and that it was a sign of their friendship drifting apart. 

She leaned in to whisper to Will, though he knew Hannibal would be able to hear anything they said.

“Are you happy, Will?” she asked, and the smile that pricked involuntarily at the corner of his mouth gave everything away. She leaned back and let her own smile grow, her demeanor changing, the light coming back into her eyes.

“Well I’m happy for you.” she said. “It’s about time.”

Hannibal’s muted smile then blossomed into a full one, and Will couldn’t help a blush rising to his cheeks.

“We appreciate your blessing, Alana.” Hannibal said, stirring the hot cinders in the stove and tossing in some wood. 

“Well, anyone who can make Will smile like _that_ has to be good for him.” she said. He glared and kicked at her from under the table. She dodged him and rolled her eyes.

“Pardon me for changing the mood of the conversation to something less cheerful, but to what were you referring earlier when you said ‘all that is going on’?” Hannibal asked.

Alana’s face grew somber.

“I suppose you haven’t heard, living all the way out here.” she said. She lowered her voice and peered at Will from underneath dark eyes.

“Last evening, a stranger came into town. Now that’s gossip enough for some folks, but not the sort of thing Margot and I normally pay much attention to. But then this morning, there were the bodies.”

Will swallowed thickly, folding his hands over his knees under the table to try to hide his trembling.

“Bodies?” his voice cracked.

She nodded.

“Three of them, in town square, with their throats cut open, and the necks of violas sticking up out of the holes.”

The horror on Will’s face was genuine, though was there for an entirely different reason than Alana suspected.

“I know. The creepiest part is the bodies aren’t anyone we _know_. They’re not from here. Which is why Jack has the stranger locked up in the jail, of course.”

Will’s face lost a few shades of color, to the point that Alana reached across the table to grab his hand.

“I know.” she said softly. “I’m freaked out by it, too.”

“This is very disturbing.” Hannibal said, coming to the table with a plate of eggs and bacon, which he set in the center. He sat in the chair between Will and Alana and began serving: first Alana, then Will, then himself.

“Can I ask what we know about this stranger?” Hannibal inquired, cutting into his eggs as if this were normal afternoon tea conversation.

“Well he arrived last evening and stayed at Bedelia’s inn. He didn’t bring anything with him other than a purse, bought dinner at the tavern, and then went to sleep. Bedelia’s the only person who even spoke to him last night.” she said, her brow furrowing as she thought back to what she’d heard.

“Then this morning, Miriam Lass’s scream could be heard from every house near the town square, and when people came running, they found a scene of _horror_.”

Alana’s face accurately depicted what she must have seen, her lips turned down in a deep frown.

“Three bodies, displayed as violas. People are terrified. They demanded action from Jack, so he took it by tossing the stranger in jail, though really there’s nothing but timing to say he had anything to do with it.”

Will’s brows were knitted together, though not from horror but from fierce thought. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to put the pieces together, knowing that, somehow, this related to the Wendigo, but unable to figure out _how_.

“You said no one knows who they are?” he asked. Alana shook her head, her face pale and eyes worried. 

“It’s really terrifying, Will.”

“I need to see them.” he stated bluntly, rising to his feet.

“What?” Alana asked, confused at his sudden declaration.

“Will.” Hannibal said, reaching out to gently place his palm over the back of Will’s hand. Will turned to glare at him, knowing that he knew _something_ about this; then immediately retracted his anger as he realized it _couldn’t_ have been Hannibal—because Will knew exactly where he’d been all last night.

“I need to see them before Jack moves them, before anyone touches them.” he tried to explain, unable to hide the urgency in his voice, and unable to really explain it, either.

“No one is going to touch them for quite a while, if people are as frightened as Alana says they are.”

She nodded in confirmation.

“People are terrified. They’re not even leaving their homes. It’s why I was worried about you, why I came to see if you were okay.”

“Please, sit and eat your breakfast. Gather your strength.” Hannibal said, and immediately Will wanted to snap _for what?_

But with Alana right there he kept his mouth shut. He had no desire to drag her into the insanity that was his life being hunted by… _courted_ by…a dark forest spirit. 

So he sat obediently, and began eating the eggs and bacon Hannibal had prepared. The doctor’s smile was genuine, satisfied and delighted that Will was hungrily eating his cooking.

“This is delicious, Hannibal.” Alana said, and he turned to smile gleefully at her as well. “Thank you. I greatly enjoy cooking for my friends.” he said, and began to eat his own eggs.

* * *

The sky was overcast as they made their way into the town square, the air completely still, devoid even of the slightest breeze, almost as though nature itself was holding its breath. Will felt a tingling sense of trepidation as they approached the crowd in the center of town, everyone eerily still and silent. Not even Freddie Lounds was speaking, her eyes trained at the monstrosity along with everyone else’s, all eyes on Jack who stood beside it, hoping he would know what to do. The apprehension in the air was tangible.

Will weaved his way around the townspeople, frightened eyes turning to watch him. If anyone noticed the kiss-bruises on his neck, they didn’t say a word. He knew in an instant that his relationship with Hannibal was now known; and it also seemed like the least important thing in the world.

He approached the three bodies, all kneeling in the mud, held up by each other as their backs formed a triangle and their chests faced outward. 

Will stopped before the arrangement, Alana and Hannibal flanking him just behind, and paused to examine it, not caring about the eyes of the crowd, and caring even less about Jack.

“It’s a monument.” he said immediately, turning to walk in a circle about the arrangement, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. His eyes scrutinized the presentation, taking in every detail, memorizing it, fascinated by it. They all wore similar clothing: common work pants, simple peasant’s shirts, plain leather boots. Their six feet all touched in the center, as did their shoulders, leaning against each other. Their hands were also set to hold each other, and Will noticed the drops of blood that had run down from under the sleeves and along the fingers.

“They were killed naked.” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke. “Then dressed, in clothes not their own. They’re cloaked; we are hidden from who they really are, only meant to see the shell of the outside. It’s why their heads are missing.”

Alana listened intently, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to see what Will was talking about. Hannibal’s eyes were locked onto Will, his expression unreadable, his attention entirely devoted to the man who walked slowly in circles around the monument.

“And what of the viola necks?” Jack asked, his voice shattering Will’s concentration. He turned and glared at the interruption, not realizing just how vicious his face looked until Alana said, “Will! It’s a valid question.”

Will’s head snapped to face Alana then, but her concern caused the glare to fade from his face. 

He chose not to say anything to them, and instead turned his attention back to the exhibition, his eyes darting over it, drinking it in. When he spoke, his voice was hushed and throaty, his words deliberate.

“Whoever these three represent, they are meant to make music together.” he said. “They’re stand-ins, placeholders, for three people who the artist thinks would be beautiful together.”

He stopped, Alana’s face pale, Jack’s horrified, Hannibal’s unreadable. Will’s expression was a muddle of both awe and utter confusion. He finally tore his eyes from it and looked at Jack.

“The _artist_.” Jack said, suspicion and confusion written all over his face. “How do you know all this, Will?”

Will frowned and stared at the display again.

“You can’t…see it?” he asked. “The message?”

“What message?” Jack snapped, and Will turned to glare at him again. He opened his mouth to spit something angry when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He stopped, and turned his face partially towards Hannibal as he leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“The message isn’t for Jack.” Hannibal said. “Of course he cannot see it.”

Will turned his face back to the three bodies, his face going pale. 

The consideration that the Wendigo had done this crossed his mind, and then he pushed it aside. The Wendigo had no interest in a public display. Its mind was set on Will, and only Will, and it didn’t regard the other people in the town as anything but food. It had no reason to draw attention to itself like this.

Will’s blood turned slowly cold.

“Where is the stranger?” he whispered.

“In the j…” Jack began, but was cut off by a commotion to their right. The entire town turned their heads to look, and saw an unfamiliar man walking towards them from the direction of the jailhouse. He was young, his hair shaved close to his head, his skin darker than Jack’s. All of that barely registered in Will’s mind because his attention was almost entirely occupied by his eyes. They were deep, black pools that looked very similar to, and yet were entirely different from Hannibal’s.

“How did you get out? Who released you?” Jack bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls of the buildings in the otherwise silent town.

“No jail cell can hold me.” he said, his eyes staying trained on Will’s face, not even glancing in Jack’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Will?”

Will’s heart started to race from fear and he took a step backward, then another, until his back brushed up against Hannibal’s chest. Against it he felt comfort, a bit of safety.

Everyone turned to stare at Will.

“Will, do you know this man?” Jack asked, his face contorted with confusion and concern.

Will shook his head, his body trembling from fear, forgetting his voice.

“No, he doesn’t.” the stranger said. “We haven’t officially met.” he said, finally stopping only two feet from Will, much too close for his liking. He pressed up against Hannibal’s chest and felt a protective hand come up and clasp his arm at the elbow.

“My name is Tobias.” he said, his eyes burning into Will’s, and in them he saw evil and the delight of destruction. “And I am _very_ pleased to make your acquaintance, Will Graham.”

Will swallowed thickly.

“What do you want with me?” he stammered, instinctually knowing that Tobias had a Wendigo, the way Hannibal had one; a demon that followed him wherever he went—though it seemed Tobias _enjoyed_ his curse. 

Tobias grinned, and finally removed his gaze from Will’s face, only to turn and admire the monument.

“Isn’t it clear?” he said, waving an open hand towards the bodies. “I want to share you with Hannibal.”

The murmurs that echoed through the crowd were lost on Will as he felt Hannibal’s hands rush up to clasp tightly at his shoulders, pulling him close against his chest.

Tobias snorted.

“He seems very possessive of you.” he said, his tone mocking. “But of course, who you belong to is not up to him. It’s up to you, Will.” Tobias said, his eyes darting up to stare at Hannibal behind Will’s head.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” Will snapped, finding courage in his sudden anger. “I belong to myself, and Hannibal is my lover. You’re not invited.”

Tobias’s smirk seemed frozen on his face, though the life had gone out of it. His lips parted to reveal his teeth, his dark eyes leaving Hannibal’s face to glare at Will’s once more.

“Very well then.” he said, his voice vicious and angry. “I shall destroy you both.”

A hideous, deafening screech roared from behind Gideon’s butcher shop. Everyone turned to see an enormous catlike beast, as tall as the building, its dancing tail rising high above the chimney. It had no fur, only skin, like a pig, which was pure black, reflecting not a glimmer of light. It pawed at the ground and charged forward, mouth open in a hiss full of teeth, into the crowd that surrounded them. 

Screams filled the air as people ran for their lives. The stillness broke into mayhem, the shrieks of mothers calling for their children with desperate voices shattered the silence. Will stood, petrified, as he watched the enormous monster charge towards him, its eyes glowing white with hatred.

Another shriek pierced the air, reaching Will’s ears through all the noise. A familiar shriek. Before his brain had time to process it, his heart soared with hope at the sound. The Wendigo… _his_ Wendigo… appeared from the shadows beside the buildings and along the ground, materializing in thin air between Will and the charging shadow-cat. They clashed in a thunderous noise that caused barrels to topple and chimneys to collapse. Will was knocked to the ground, the display of bodies falling on top of him, covering him in a mess of blood and rotting flesh.

He struggled to get out from under it, his eyes darting everywhere for Hannibal to see if he was safe. He turned and saw Alana, crouching a few feet away, her eyes wide with horror as she watched the fighting demons above Will. Her gaze fell to him and she reached a hand out to him.

“Will, come on!” she cried. He glanced around at the carnage again, at the bodies of townsfolk strewn and sliced open from the direction the cat had come from. He heard another scream and turned to see the Wendigo flailing its claws, one of them catching Miriam Lass in the arm and slicing it clean off while she screamed.

His head flung back around to Alana.

“Alana, get out of here!” he cried. “It’s after me; you can get away!”

She didn’t listen, however and began crawling towards him as he lay under the bodies. She was only a few feet away when the cat’s enormous maw opened above him. Teeth clamped down around Will’s torso and he shut his eyes, knowing this was the end.

He was yanked high up into the air, his stomach dropping in terror as he rose above the buildings, above the trees. He’d never seen so far in his life, his vision going all the way to where the sky met the treetops…and then he lost his sight as he grew dizzy, tossed and thrown.

“Will!” Alana screamed. “Wiiiiillll!”

An enormous screech from his Wendigo deafened him. A slash of razor-sharp claws sliced through the cat’s jowls, knocking Will from its teeth. His clothes tore as they got caught in its mouth, and chunks of his skin with it. He screamed from the pain as he plummeted towards the ground.

Just before he met it he was caught in the Wendigo’s claws, the same deadly claws that had torn through the cat’s mouth. They closed around him protectively, holding him tightly but not painfully so. 

And then the Wendigo ran.

It moved so fast that Will didn’t know what was happening at first. The air whipped by his face, whistling in his ears, forcing him to shut his eyes. He heard leaves and branches being torn from trees as it moved, and the roaring shriek of Tobias’s Wendigo as it chased them, equally as fast. 

The air grew cold, and falling snow started to pelt Will’s face. He shivered from the cold, or from the pain, or from the fear. The world crashed and swirled around him, until the sky grew dark and it seemed like night, and then it all stopped.

The Wendigo stood perfectly still. It didn’t pant. It didn’t breathe at all. It simply stared, out into the falling snow, its white eyes narrowing to slits as it scanned the trees.

It turned to look down at Will, curling its claws open slowly. Gently, it placed him on the ground. Half-naked, bleeding and shivering, Will did his best to stand. The world spun and he fell onto the frozen ground, sinking into six inches of snow.

The Wendigo turned from him and walked away, its footsteps silent, even as its antlers cracked and rattled the branches above it. Helpless to do anything at all, Will simply crossed his arms across his chest and shivered, wishing he had his dogs with him to keep him warm.

He heard a crackling noise, and the ground around him started to move. His eyes darted to the right and left, watching the earth split apart as brambles grew out of the ground, thick, bark-covered thorny branches surrounding him on all sides. He watched helplessly as the branches grew up and over him, entwining with each other above his head, sealing him off from the snowfall. He realized it was the Wendigo’s attempt at a shelter, and found himself feeling grateful, even if he was still going to freeze to death.

He tried to listen to the world outside, but there was nothing. Whether the brambles blocked all sound or the forest was actually silent, he couldn’t tell. He lay on the ground, shivering as he realized this would be his last few moments alive, and wondered whether Hannibal was okay.

He heard a soft snort, and a warm puff of air washed over his freezing body. He lifted his head just enough to see a Ravenstag standing beside him, inside the bramble-house. The rocks crackled and rolled as it bent its knees and lay down beside him, the warmth of its body heavenly as it curled its powerful neck around him, its thick fur and feathers nearly covering him. 

Will pressed his body close to the warmth of the stag, too cold to feel the pain from his wounds, too cold to feel afraid or even awed. All he felt was grateful as he buried himself into the warm fur, feeling the heat slowly seep through his skin and back into his body.

After Will’s shivering calmed, the Ravenstag turned its enormous snout towards him, its hot breath washing over his skin. Its tongue emerged, long and black and wet, and it began to lick Will’s wounds. It felt good, if only because it was warm. Will grunted from relief as the pain faded everywhere the stag licked him, and he watched in awe as the bleeding stopped and the wounds began to look more like they were a few days healed, rather than fresh.

It reminded him of being licked by his pack of dogs, its tongue scratchier and larger, but affectionate in the same kind of way. It paused now and then to lick its chops, enjoying the flavor of Will’s blood, even as it healed him. He lay still as it worked, allowing it to cover his chest and back with drool, remembering that it was healing. It certainly felt good, it took away the pain and was warm besides.

Will hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he was jarred awake by the hideous screech of Tobias’s Wendigo. Fear shot down his spine and adrenaline made him attempt to stand. The Ravenstag placed its chin over his body to keep him down. 

Will heard Hannibal’s Wendigo screech in return, and the sound of their clashing began again with violence. It sounded as if the forest itself was being torn apart. He heard the thunderous crack of trees being ripped from their roots and tossed, the echoing boom of their landing distant and faint. It was impossible to keep track of time: he could see nothing outside of his protective thicket, and as loud and terrifying as the battle was, he kept drifting in and out of sleep from exhaustion.

Then a scream that sounded like it came from a thousand cats pierced his brain, making his eyes fly wide open in terror as he heard what he knew was a death cry. He clutched at the stag’s fur and tried to bury himself hidden inside. The sound echoed through the air and then faded as if the essence of what made it had disappeared. He heard the roar of the Wendigo, triumphant as it boomed through the trees and rattled the branches of Will’s thicket shelter. Then there was silence.

The only sound Will could hear was the Ravenstag’s breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of its stomach and throat reminding Will that he was alive. For a long time, there was nothing but that, and Will slowly noticed that his fingers were clutched in the Ravenstag’s fur, probably hard enough to hurt, though it didn’t seem to care. Eventually, his exhaustion overcame everything else and he fell into a deep, long sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Will opened his eyes groggily. His body ached from his injuries, his wounds in his arms and torso throbbing as he moved to sit up. The Ravenstag was still beside him, though it didn’t stop him from moving into a sitting position this time. There were still brambles in a half-circle around him, but the other half of the thicket was open to the world now, letting in clouded daylight. 

He sat up fully and took stock of himself. His left arm seemed to have gotten the worst of it, gaping wounds along both sides where enormous teeth had scraped along his skin. There were large gashes in his left side as well. His shirt was in tatters, and was useless as a piece of clothing, nothing but strips of cloth hanging from him.

There was the slightest stirring in the pattern of the falling snow, and he lifted his head up straight to stare. He squinted and peered into the gently falling whiteness, and knew then that the Wendigo was there. He couldn’t see it, and it made no sound at all—it barely disturbed the snowflakes as they fell. But as Will watched, the shadows below the trees and high in the branches began to converge, piling upon each other until they formed into the shape of the beast in front of him, perfectly black, limbs knobby like tree branches, claws as sharp as razors, antlers rising up to brush against the lower boughs.

It opened its eyes, blinding white against the pure blackness of its body. Will remained motionless, sitting, injured, and half-naked in the dirt beside a sleeping Ravenstag. They both stared at each other for a long time, and Will did his best to keep his tremors down, though it was nearly impossible with such a terrifying creature before him.

“You saved me.” he said. “Thank you.”

The Wendigo extended a long, knobby arm outward towards Will, its claws reaching his face even as it stood more than six feet away from him. They gently brushed along his cheek, and he shivered from the touch as if they were extremely cold, yet they felt burning hot at the same time. The sensation was altogether very uncomfortable and also strangely pleasant.

The Wendigo curled a claw underneath Will’s chin and lifted it. It moved forward, and he felt his heart starting to race, wondering what it was going to do, if he was still yet to die. It shifted its shape and size as it moved, until when it reached Will it had only to hunch a few feet to lower its face until it was right in front of him. He stared into its blank, terrifying face and struggled not to scream or run.

“Will.” it growled, the voice not coming from where its mouth was, but rumbling as if from the forest itself, shaking snow from the branches when it spoke.

Will was struck still by the utterance of his name. He felt the claws at his chin and along his face change shape, grow softer and more flexible. Soon they were tendrils, each of them snaking along his skin, growing and shrinking as they explored his neck, his shoulders, his face. They wrapped around his left arm, lifting it, snapping the tatters of his shirt away like string. The sensation was like oil, but dry; he wanted to pull away, and yet couldn’t bear the thought of it. His wounds re-opened, blood seeping from them, yet he felt no pain.

He watched his blood absorb into the blackness, being sucked away from his body and into the demon.

“Delicious.” it said, its voice rattling the trees and yet sounding almost like a purr. Will swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest from fear. He rose up onto his knees, wanting to stand but the roof of his bramble house was too low. The tendrils multiplied and spread over his body, pulling his shirt away, lapping at his skin, drinking his blood. Will knew he should have been horrified, and some part of him was, but all he could do was watch, and then close his eyes and feel.

He felt thin tendrils wrap around each of his fingers, and he curled them, holding the Wendigo in return. A low, gravelly purr echoed through the air and Will opened his eyes again, this time half-lidded, staring into the light of the Wendigo’s eyes.

“Do you accept me, Will Graham?” it asked, the tendrils snaking over his entire body now, wrapping around his torso and pants, curling around his thighs, stopping just short of his cock, which he disturbingly realized was starting to swell.

“I don’t know.” he whispered, his voice soft and quiet, but even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. The answer wasn’t ‘no’, and that said all that needed to be said.

“I accept Hannibal.” he stated instead.

A pleased purr from the Wendigo showed that it understood his state of mind more than he was comfortable with. A tendril snaked up his neck and over his jaw to caress over his lips, solid and strong and yet wispy as smoke.

“Find out if you accept me.” it said, caressing over his lips. “Open.”

Will’s eyes locked onto the Wendigo’s and he knew he was being given a choice, and that the choice he made was going to affect the rest of his life. This was his last, and perhaps his only, chance to walk away from a life involved with this demon.

And probably also Hannibal.

His eyes still captured by the white glow of the Wendigo’s, Will decided he needed more answers.

“How is Hannibal tied to you?” he asked.

“Yes.” it said, its voice rumbling through Will’s body, vibrating in his bones. His brow furrowed at the answer that didn’t make sense to his question. He tried another.

“Can he ever be separated from you?”

“No.”

It was spoken with finality. It was far more concrete of an answer than Hannibal ever gave- and Will believed the truth of it, down to his toes.

“So if I want to be with him, I must accept you.” he stated, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” it replied anyway, the tendrils snaked around Will’s body tightening just a bit, emphasizing how strong of a yes that was.

Staring into its eyes, Will only had one more question before he made his decision.

“What will happen to me if I reject you?” he whispered, feeling the tendrils caress over his lips each time he spoke, realizing that his mouth was open each time he spoke—but the Wendigo did not invade him without his permission.

It didn’t reply immediately, and Will could see that it was thinking—not about what the answer was, but about how to formulate the words of its reply, in exactly the same fashion Hannibal did when he was trying to not lie, but without telling the entire truth.

“You will be separated from Hannibal, if you reject me.” it finally said.

“Will you kill me?” he asked, and he felt every tendril wrap more tightly around him, including one around his neck, squeezing just enough to make it very clear how easily it could.

“No.” it replied, after long deliberation.

Will steeled himself and nodded once.

“Then I’m ready.” he said. “I’ll open.”

He wanted to claim it was because he was under a spell, or some kind of trance. Perhaps that would be what he would tell the townspeople, if he ever even saw them again. He realized that he probably should have asked if he would live if he said _yes_ , but that seemed of much less consequence, somehow. His heart raced with adrenaline. Will kept his eyes tethered to the Wendigo’s, feeling the tendril press up against his lips, waiting for his permission to enter.

He parted his mouth, and it dove in. At first it was like a tongue, slithering and warm, but then it went much further and deeper, stretching his jaw wide as it snaked down his throat. His eyes teared and his nostrils flared as he couldn’t inhale, silent cries trying to escape him as he felt it push its way down his esophagus.

“Bite.” it commanded, and Will did, putting the pressure of his teeth on skin that now felt like gutted fish, wet and cold and thin.

“ _Bite_.” it roared, and its claws were back, one curling just under his chin, pushing his jaw up until he felt his teeth slice through its flesh. He clamped down and the need to breathe forced him to swallow, the long tendril snaking its way into his stomach, writhing there inside of him, alive and cold.

He doubled over coughing, his body immediately starting to convulse. He collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself as pain spread from his stomach into his blood and out to his limbs. He felt cold and everything hurt, but he watched with amazed eyes as the wounds on his body began to heal. Not the stopping of blood as the Ravenstag had done, but truly _healing_ , his skin growing over and closing up the wounds, leaving him without a single injury, without scars, without any trace he’d been hurt at all.

The thing in his stomach writhed. The cold was back, and Will realized he was lying half-naked in the snow, in the dark. When it had become night, he couldn’t recall. He looked up and noticed the Wendigo was gone. And there was a light.

Shivering from pain and cold, Will rose to his feet and walked towards it. It was square, a window, and as he approached, his feet trudging through the snow, he saw it was Hannibal’s house. His heart raced as he approached it, not knowing how to describe anything that had happened and yet knowing that he wouldn’t have to. He just wanted to be near Hannibal. He wanted him close.

For the second time, Will pounded on Hannibal’s back door shivering from an encounter with the Wendigo. Hannibal opened it, his face stoic as he took in the sight of Will and in a single glance, ascertained almost everything.

“Will. What have you done?” he asked, his voice full of emotion, and yet it was impossible for Will to tell which ones.

He glanced down at himself and saw just how pale he was, a sheen of sweat covering his naked skin. He raised his trembling head and met Hannibal’s eyes.

“I ate some of it.” he said. “I can feel it writhing in my stomach.”

Hannibal’s expression was completely unreadable. He reached out his hand and put it around Will’s shoulders.

“Come, come in, before you freeze to death.” he said, ushering Will inside. 

“Warm bath?” Will asked, knowing that he would not be surprised if Hannibal had one waiting for him, again.

“No, warm bed. Come.” Hannibal said, leading him through the kitchen and into the examination room, towards his bedroom.

Halfway across the room, Will felt it writhe in his stomach, a fresh shot of pain springing through his limbs. He collapsed onto his knees, eyes rolling back in his head, dizzy.

“Will!” Hannibal cried, his hands wrapping under his arms. He lifted him up with a grunt and helped him onto the nearest patient bed and proceeded to remove his boots, followed by his pants.

“Can’t wait…to get me…naked again, Dr. Lecter?” Will chattered.

“Just trying to get you warm, Will.”

Will gave him a smile that said ‘bullshit’, and Hannibal returned one with equal affection.

“Would it suit you if I were naked, as well?”

Will grinned even through the shivers and pain, and Hannibal reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. When he was stripped down to nothing he disappeared into his bedroom and returned with two enormous quilts in his arms, which he draped over Will, and he wrapped them tightly around himself.

“Thank…” Will said, but didn’t finished as he doubled over in pain, curling in on himself. 

“Agh!” he cried, and retched. Hannibal was quick to grab a bucket and Will vomited into it, expelling nothing but pure blackness. It didn’t have a flavor, though it was searing hot against his teeth, which made absolutely no sense. 

When he was finished, Hannibal set the bucket down on the floor in front of him and slipped into the bed behind him, under the covers. His warm, naked skin pressed up against Will’s back as he curled them together, his knees pressing against the back of Will’s, his pelvis nestling up against Will’s ass. He reached up a hand and gently combed it through Will’s hair.

“It is very powerful magic that you have consumed.” Hannibal said, his voice soothing, his body warm and gentle. “You will only accept as much of it as you are ready for. The rest of it, your body will expel.”

Will shut his eyes tight in a wince and clutched his fingers in the blanket beneath him. 

“Why have you done this, Will?”

Again, Will heard the depth of emotion in Hannibal’s voice, but whether he was upset about this situation, Will found it impossible to discern.

“I wanted…to be closer to you.” he said, and behind him, he felt Hannibal tense. He rose and placed his lips gently against Will’s ear, his fingers stroking through his curls, his breath warm and gentle as it flowed over Will’s face.

“That you will be.” he said, and it made Will’s heart glow, as he knew this was worth it. He pressed his body back against Hannibal’s, shimmying closer to him, and Hannibal slid an arm around his stomach, pulling him in tightly.

“Try to sleep, Will. The first twelve hours or so will be the worst, and then you will feel better.”

Will nodded and shut his eyes, though he couldn’t imagine how he would sleep in his current misery.

“Have you gone through this?” he asked, and Hannibal’s fingers paused in their stroking of his hair as he deliberated over how to phrase what he was going to say.

“No.” he said simply, and didn’t explain further.

But he would explain, eventually, Will knew. When it was time. When Will was able.

He was going to make himself become able.

* * *

Hannibal was right about the first twelve hours being miserable. Will woke up several times in the night to vomit, each time with Hannibal’s hands stroking gently through his hair, then handing him a glass of water to rinse his mouth out. The flavor became more vomit-like with each episode, which he knew was probably good, but only made him more miserable.

He alternated between freezing shivers and hot sweats, like a fever but more intense, and yet he was exhausted and passed out in fits of sleep. He had no idea why Hannibal stayed beside him, but was grateful for it, and by morning, Will had finally nodded off some.

He woke up to shouting voices. He tore his eyes open and saw the fuzzy outlines of people standing in Hannibal’s doorway, along with Hannibal.

“Please, help her!” someone cried. “She’s dying, and Dr. Chilton’s hands are full, he cannot take any more patients!”

“Of course. Come in, lay her here.” Hannibal said. Will drifted in and out of his daze, aware there were other people standing in the room, but unable to focus or think enough to see who they were. He caught glimpses of Hannibal working, leaning over the patient, his hands confident and sure as he stitched up whoever was lying on the examination table.

After that, more patients started coming. Five, then ten people who’d been injured by the raging beasts yesterday, all whom had been given the barest of care either by uneducated relatives or by an exhausted Dr. Chilton. Hannibal stitched, bandaged, and gave out medicine as if each one were his only patient, working quickly but never losing his calm demeanor. The praises of grateful voices filled Will’s ears, as coins from purses filled Hannibal’s treasury.

“Is that Will Graham?” someone asked, and Will groaned and attempted to cover his face with the blanket, only to discover he was too weak to accomplish the task. He instead chose to glare at the hideous nest of perfect red curls he despised so much.

“Yes.” was Hannibal’s only reply, his attention still focused on taking care of the current patient on his table.

“Well Alana Verger and Beverly Katz have been beside themselves concerning him. Alana says she came by last night looking, but neither he nor you were here.”

Will’s brow furrowed at that; he didn’t remember anyone knocking, but then again, he hadn’t been in any state to hear it if they had. And then Hannibal had refused to leave his side, so he probably let her knock and just walk away, knowing Will wouldn’t want her to see him like this, anyway.

“If you like, I could deliver the message to them that Will is alright.” she offered.

Will tried to say no, but his throat was raw and dry. No sound at all came out.

“That will not be necessary, Miss Lounds, thank you.” Hannibal said, his attention immediately turning back to the patient he was attending to. “I need to show you how to prepare the poultice. Come with me into the kitchen.” he said. 

The moment Hannibal walked out of the room, Freddie immediately turned to face Will. She slinked towards him and plopped herself down on the edge of the armchair nearest him, crossing her gloved fingers daintily over her knee.

“How are you feeling, Will?” she said. “Gosh, you do look awful.”

He cleared his throat several times and tried to lick his lips to speak. While he was doing that her eyes flicked downward to the bucket full of his vomit, and all he managed was a heavy sigh.

“I heard one of the monsters took you and ran off into the Southern Forest.” she said, leaning back and flipping her curls over her shoulder. “But you don’t look dead to me. Only nearly.”

He glared at her.

She leaned in closer and spoke more softly, her eyes not bothering to look at him.

“You know, everyone might be focused on this disaster with monsters coming into town, which is, of course, an important thing to focus on. But don’t think that doesn’t mean I’ll let people forget the conversation that happened just _before_ we were all attacked by death beasts. You and Hannibal are involved in this, and I intend to discover how.”

Hannibal cleared his throat from the doorway, and Freddie rose, plastering a sickly fake smile across her face.

“Good news, Doctor. Will is awake. I do hope you cure him. He looks very ill.”

“Thank you, Miss Lounds.” he said, helping his last patient from the kitchen to his front door. “Now I must ask you to be on your way, so I can tend to him. Change the bandage on your arm once every two days, and keep it dry.”

“Yes, Doctor.” she said, and left, finally leaving them alone again.

Hannibal walked over and Will tried to speak.

“Shhhh.” Hannibal said, putting his palm on his forehead. “Don’t waste your energy on those types of creatures.” he said. “You need to focus on yourself. You must eat. I have prepared soup.”

Will’s stomach flipped at the thought of eating and he turned his head away.

“It has medicinal value. It will help. Trust me, Will.”

Will tried to protest some more, but Hannibal’s strong arm was behind his shoulders then and pushing him into a sitting position. It occurred to him that he was still entirely naked, and that he also really didn’t care. He rose to his feet and Hannibal materialized a bathrobe from somewhere, draping it over Will’s shoulders. 

“Thank you.” he croaked.

“Anything for you.” Hannibal said, planting a kiss to the side of Will’s pale face. At the words, a warm blush rose to Will’s cheeks and happiness fluttered in his heart, even as his body hated him. 

Hannibal led him to the kitchen and sat him at the table, where he placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of Will. He groaned and nearly retched as he thought of eating.

“Hannibal, maybe just some water…”

“Just try one taste.” he said, sitting down across from Will, another bowl of the soup in front of him. “If it doesn’t settle your stomach and bring color back to your cheeks, you may decide not to have a second bite.”

Will rolled his eyes at Hannibal’s over-confidence in his soup, but decided what the hell, maybe his medicine really would settle his stomach. He brought the spoon to his lips and blew on it, letting the steam waft up to his nose and breathed in the aroma.

It smelled really, really good. His stomach suddenly grumbled, an entirely different and much more welcome feeling than he’d been having all night. He opened his mouth and gingerly sipped down the broth, feeling its warmth slide down his throat, soothing the rawness. 

He placed his spoon down beside the bowl and waited. Hannibal watched him intently, not touching his own spoon. Will felt his stomach calm almost instantly, and warmth spread out from it, up into his chest and out into his limbs.

“What the hell is in this, Hannibal?” he asked, picking up the spoon again and diving back in, bringing it to his mouth much more eagerly this time.

Hannibal only gave him a crooked smile and began eating his own soup, in a much more proper and civilized manner than Will. Will dipped the spoon in over and over, eating chunks of vegetables and cubes of chopped meat, the flavor nothing like he’d ever tasted.

“Hannibal, this is amazing.” he said. “I can’t even taste the medicine.”  
Hannibal only smiled at him and they ate in silence, Will feeling much, much better by the time he was done.

“You appear stronger.” Hannibal replied, taking the bowl away. Will nodded lazily, the sickness having faded enough that he was able to relax for a moment. Then he bolted up straight.

“Shit! My dogs!” he cried, rising to his feet in a rush. “They must be starving!”

He saw the disapproval in Hannibal’s features, but also saw he understood Will was not going to be stopped.

“Let me get you some clothes.” he said instead. “And I will accompany you.”


	10. Chapter 10

The next few days were chaos. People searching for their loved ones screamed their names, roaming the streets and trampling the woods, disturbing the normally peaceful forest behind Will’s house. More people than had ever knocked on his door in his life knocked on it within a few hours, asking if he’d seen so-and-so, shouting through the door and taking much, much too long to give up when he didn’t answer it.

Will shut himself in and moved between huddling in his bed with shivers and sitting at the table in nothing but shorts, sweating. He tried to concentrate on making lures to pass the time, his dogs fussing about his feet, one of them placing its head on his lap in worry now and then.

Hannibal was busy, overwhelmed by patients as those who had survived needed wounds re-bandaged, stitches taken out, and medicines refilled. Yet he still made it a point to come visit Will every day, bringing something homemade for him to eat.

And Hannibal’s cooking was _all_ Will was able to eat. Not that he’d been a big fan of food before; he’d always eaten just for survival, cramming stag meat down his throat to make his hunger go away, and nothing more. But now the thought of food made his stomach churn; he even tried it once, taking a bite of a loaf of bread just to see what would happen. He was retching into the sink immediately, his stomach screaming at him in anger as if he’d swallowed poison.

Alana had come by and he’d talked to her through the door, explaining that he was sick from having walked through the Southern Forest’s winter improperly dressed, and he didn’t want her to catch it. He could tell from her voice that she only half-bought his explanation, and had a thousand questions that he didn’t yet know how to answer. But for now she was just happy with the news he was alive, and she let him be to rest.

Beverly was the only person he opened his door for besides Hannibal. She’d heard from Alana that he was sick and had brought him a fruit basket—which immediately made him feel nauseous. He thanked her and put it on the counter in the kitchen, shuffling because he was wrapped in a blanket, and wearing nothing underneath.

“You look like hell, Will.” she said. He stared up at her from out of sunken eyes, his cheekbones showing, his skin yellowish and covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Dr. Lecter is taking care of me. He says I’ll get better.” he rasped, his voice not wanting to work. 

“I don’t doubt he’s doing his best.” she said, worry creasing her forehead as she spoke. “But maybe you should have Dr. Chilton look at you, as well?”

Will snorted, and Beverly didn’t try that question again.

“How are…things in the town?” he asked, shuffling forward to sink down into a chair at the table, exhausted. Beverly sat across from him, as far away as possible.

“Awful.” she replied. “They’re having the funeral today; one big one, for everyone who was lost to the monsters.”

Will stared at the table blankly, thinking that the statement should have made him feel something. Sadness, pity, guilt. But it didn’t. He hadn’t caused any of this, he justified. There was no guilt for him to feel.

“You aren’t expected to attend, everyone knows you’re sick.” she said, misinterpreting his expression. He nodded anyway, letting her think she had comforted him.

“Jack has a lot of questions for you.” she said. “He’s been eager to come over here and question you, but Bella won’t let him until you’re well. He wants to know how you survived the monster, Will.”

“Wendigo.” Will corrected, wincing when he realized he shouldn’t have said it. Beverly’s shock was evident, though she hid it well.

“ _Do_ you know something about it?” she asked, her kind face contorting with worry. He nodded and stood up, shuffling over to his bookshelf where he pulled off the book Abigail had given him what seemed like years ago.

He brought it over and turned to the proper page, showing Beverly what it said. Her eyes grew wider with fear as she read, nodding as it all made sense of what had appeared in the town square.

“This is it! Will, this is exactly what it is!” she cried, leaping from her seat, book in hand. “Maybe there’s something in here about how to kill it!”

Instinctually Will revolted. He felt a powerful surge of adrenaline and anger, and had to fight it with all his willpower to not lunge at Beverly’s throat and tear it out with his teeth. He grew dizzy and trembled, shaking with the effort to keep himself rooted where he stood. Her nose was buried in the book and she didn’t notice, her voice excitedly reading aloud the contents of the page.

“… _If a forest seems otherworldly, such as day and night lasting too long, or seasons lasting not long enough…_ Will, this is exactly…” she lifted her head to look at him and cut herself off in mid-sentence.

“Holy shit, Will, your nose is bleeding!” she cried, placing the book down on the table. He lifted a shaky hand and swiped it under his nose, removing his fingers to see not red, but pure blackness. Beverly grabbed a towel and rushed to help him, lifting it near is face. He turned violently away, yanking the towel from her and holding it up to his face, hoping she didn’t see just how _very black_ the “blood” was.

“Bev, I need…I need to rest, please.” he said.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. But I don’t want to just leave you…”

“I’ll be fine.” he snapped, more of a growl in his voice than he intended, and he heard her step away.

“Okay. Okay.” she said. “Can I borrow this book?”

He waved his clean hand at her, not turning his head.

“Take it.”

“Will, are you s…”

“ _Take it, and go!_ ” he shouted.

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Will. Feel better.” she said, and rushed out of his house, still closing his door softly behind her.

He stumbled to the table and sat roughly in a chair, pulling the towel away from his face to see the inky blackness that covered it and his hands. It dripped from his nose down onto the table, oozing out of him.

_You will only accept as much of it as you are ready for. The rest of it, your body will expel._

“It’s because I didn’t accept killing Beverly, isn’t it?” he said to no one, knowing somehow that the Wendigo could hear him. “Not her. Never her.”

He tried to keep his body from convulsing, with little success. More of the blackness oozed from his nose, the convulsions growing stronger, until his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost control of himself, and all sense of time.

* * *

When Will came to, it was dark. He looked around the kitchen to see objects strewn about, the basket of fruits scattered across the floor, many of them smashed. Two chairs were knocked over and the table was out of place. He turned to look at Arrow, who stood in the doorway, eyes ever-watchful and full of concern.

“Did I do this?” he asked, and even if the dog couldn’t speak, Will knew the answer.

He looked down at the table and squinted in the darkness, having nothing to see by but the moonlight. He saw lines on the table and ran his hands over them, to discover they were gouges in the wood. He rose and found the lamp, fumbling through his drawers for the flint. When he had it lit he turned and held it over the table, squinting at the gouges in the wood. They looked, for all the world, like claw marks.

Will set the lamp down on the table and looked at his trembling fingers. Sure enough, there were bits of wood jammed under his nails, though it didn’t hurt the way it should. There was no blood and no injuries. He sat and examined them in the light, once again turning to look at his most loyal dog, wishing he could give him answers.

While Will was staring at his hands, there came a knock at the door. He jumped, which caused Arrow to leap to his feet and start barking.

“Arrow, silence.” came Hannibal’s voice, and the dog quieted, wagging his tail. Relieved to no longer be alone, Will rose and answered the door, forgetting the blanket and that he was entirely naked.

Hannibal made no attempt to hide the stroke of his eyes over Will’s body, though he made no comment about it, a basket slung over one elbow and a lamp held in his other hand.

“The string of patients has finally dwindled, for now.” he said. “Though I must be back by morning, as I’m certain there will be more. I was hoping you’d welcome my company.”  
Will pushed forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Hannibal’s neck, burying his face in the skin there.

“Yes.” he said. “Yes.”

Will pulled Hannibal in and kissed him, again and again, clutching him, unwilling to let go.

“While I am pleased that you are so grateful to see me, allow me to make you some tea, Will. And perhaps you should put something on.”

Will reluctantly pulled away and sought some clothes, not caring what he put on. He sat at the table while Hannibal busied himself removing food from the basket and preparing a plate for Will.

“How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Will.

“Much better, actually.” he said, his voice strong and sounding more like his normal self. Maybe the worst of it was over.

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said, bringing the tea to his lips and taking a sip. “So. What about you has been changing?”

He set the teacup down on the table and Will stared down at his hands.

“How do you know…I’ve been changing?” he asked. Hannibal crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands over his knee.

“One doesn’t come into contact with that much magic and remain unaffected.” Hannibal said simply, lifting the tea to his lips and blowing gently across the steam.

Will stared at the gouge marks in the table and swallowed thickly. He decided to begin with something easier.

“I don’t care when people die, anymore.” he said, looking down into the tea, trying to feel anything about the statement other than that it was true. 

“Hmmm,” Hannibal replied, lifting his teacup to his lips. “I don’t believe that is quite accurate, Will.”

Will set his jaw and stared harder into the steaming tea, as if it could change anything, as if it had any answers. 

“No. You’re right.” he said, sighing and closing his eyes. “I never cared. I just…it’s more obvious to me, now.”

The slow grin that spread across Hannibal’s face sent an electric shiver down Will’s spine. It made him remember just how attracted he was to this man. He set his teacup shakily down onto the table.

“This isn’t right.”

“Define ‘right.’” Hannibal replied, seemingly unperturbed by Will’s confession. 

Will licked his lips and studied the grain of the table for a long moment, trying to come up with an answer.

“I shouldn’t want people to die.” was the best he could do.

“According to whom?” Hannibal prodded.

“Society.”

“Whose society?” he asked, and Will frowned. What kind of question was that? He lifted his eyes to meet Hannibal’s gaze and in them saw a hundred questions and a thousand answers, deep knowledge and understandings that Will knew he was only beginning to scratch the surface of.

“Ours?” he asked, and Hannibal gave him a gently scolding look. He inhaled deeply and the next word was more confident.

“Theirs.” he said, and Hannibal nodded with a smile.

“Yes. Theirs. You are no longer of them, Will.”

He stared at the table some more, wondering why he was _so_ okay with all of this, and then laughed at himself.

“Is something amusing?” Hannibal asked, a spark in his eyes, delighted to see Will being _happy_ with this situation.

“I’m so in love with you that I’m perfectly fine with betraying my own people.”

Hannibal put the teacup down completely on the table and reached across it to take Will’s hands into his.

“While I am delighted to hear you say you are in love with me,” he said, pausing to allow himself to smile at that phrase, “You have not betrayed your own kind if you were never one of them, Will.”

Will heard Hannibal’s words, but his focus was more on the feel of his hands covering his own, warm and strong. It made his heart race faster and he closed his eyes to feel it.

“What else has changed, Will?”

There was gentleness, but also a sense of excitement in Hannibal’s voice. As if he couldn’t wait to hear how Will was different.

“I…nearly killed Beverly.” he said. “When she suggested trying to kill the Wendigo, I reacted as if…as if she’d suggested trying to kill _me_.”

He didn’t look directly into Hannibal’s face, but saw the grin spread across his lips anyway, the shadows of the lanterns causing it to look eerie and distorted.

“You said ‘nearly.’”

Will nodded quickly.

“Yes. I fought that. I rejected more of it, I…it bled out of my nose, and then…then…”

He looked around at the kitchen.

“I did this. Only I don’t remember doing it. And I did…that.” he said, glancing with his eyes at the scrapes in the table, his hands still entirely encompassed by Hannibal’s palms.

Hannibal opened his hands, then, allowing Will’s to unfold. He lifted one with his fingers and inspected it, scraping some of the wood out with his fingernail.

“You cannot fight your desire to be violent, only re-direct it.” Hannibal concluded. 

Will felt a powerful surge of emotion that he could only describe as _yes_. It caused him to rise to his feet, and he no longer appreciated the table between them. Rather than walking around it, it made much more sense for him to grab it and shove it out of the way, moving himself close to Hannibal. He lifted his hand to Hannibal’s cheek and caressed his fingers over it.

“What am I becoming?” he asked, his eyes searching Hannibal’s for answers, and in them finding only deep blackness.

“There is no way for us to know.” Hannibal replied. “Until you arrive.”

Driven by desire he didn’t understand, Will crushed his lips heavily to Hannibal’s, eliciting a groan from the older man. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other and tongues emerged, tasting, licking, needing. Will pushed Hannibal back until he hit the counter, driving his tongue into him, wanting, _craving._

He pulled back, panting heavily, delighted to see Hannibal’s hair disheveled and out of place from his fingers.

“Definitely much stronger.” Hannibal purred, half-lidded eyes tracing over Will’s face. He tilted his face to the side and began planting kisses across Will’s jaw, then slowly down his neck. Will groaned and let him in, moaning as his fingers clutched the cloth of Hannibal’s suit jacket. Hannibal rutted against him, the hardness of his cock rubbing against Will’s own, making him feel delightfully warm.

The dogs started to bark furiously, and there came a loud pounding on the door.

“Will Graham, is Dr. Lecter with you? Please, it’s Miriam, she’s falling ill…”

Hannibal sighed and parted their kisses. Will closed his eyes with frustration.

“Just let her die.” he said, tilting his mouth in to suck on Hannibal’s neck, grinding his hips forward to rut against Hannibal’s erection.

The doctor placed his palms firmly on Will’s shoulders and pushed him away.

“I must help. It is my duty.”

Will groaned with annoyance and moved his eyes to stare into Hannibal’s.

“I know you don’t care if she lives.” he said. “Why do you pretend…”

“In due time, Will.” he said, gently stroking a thumb across Will’s lips. He slipped out from Will’s grasp, leaving his arms frustratingly empty and his cock frustratingly full.

“I’ve left you dinner beside the basket.” he said, pulling on his coat, and before Will could even reply he was out the door and rushing down the street, speaking encouraging words for Miriam to hold on, it was all going to be alright.

Will sighed, standing motionless in the middle of his kitchen for a long time, trying to find answers, to put the pieces together. He looked down at his hands again and turned them over several times, as if _they_ could tell him what he’d done after Beverly had left.

His stomach grumbled, and it was a pleasant feeling in comparison to the nausea that had been plaguing him. He pulled the table back to where it belonged and righted one chair, setting Hannibal’s plate of food down on it, the scent of still-warm steak made his mouth water. Of course it was set on one of Hannibal’s fancy plates, complete with a helping of potatoes and carrots on the side. He pulled it out and used the silverware Hannibal had supplied, cutting into the meat without hesitation, moaning softly as the delicious flavor sparked across his tongue.

Arrow whined and walked to Will’s side. Will reached out and pet his head, but Arrow only nosed himself closer, his eyes intently following the fork as it brought chunks of food to Will’s mouth. Will sighed and gave him an affectionate smile. He cut a small piece and held it out to him. Arrow wagged his tail and sniffed, then sniffed again, then turned his head away with a whimper, and lay down on the floor.

“Probably still has medicine in it.” Will said, shrugging, and shoved the meat into his mouth. “More for me.”

Having nothing else to do and not desiring, or even needing to hunt with all the food Hannibal brought him, Will tried to go to bed, wearing nothing but a pair of short-cut trousers. But he was feeling stronger now, and had done nothing _but_ sleep for the past few days, so he lay awake, his mind wandering over everything that was happening, trying to make sense of it all.

Worse, he was still frustratingly turned on from the tease Hannibal had given him earlier, and no matter how hard he tried to think about other things, his mind kept wandering back to Hannibal’s lips on his neck, his hands wandering down his back, his cock pressed up against Will’s erection.

“Dammit, Hannibal, you couldn’t have stayed ten more minutes?” he whispered into the darkness, rolling onto his back and sliding his palm up his thigh. He rubbed his hand over his erection, groaning as he remembered Hannibal doing it; his warm body near, his naked skin pressed against him.

The dogs started to bark, and Will tried to ignore them. It was probably just a squirrel. He tried to concentrate on his memory of Hannibal, naked in his bed…

“Yap, yap yap yap yap!”

He grunted and rolled out of bed, walking to the back door in irritation. The change of tone in his dogs’ barking altered his mood immediately, however, and he reached for his musket before swinging the door open. 

The dogs barked louder now that they had their master’s attention, all turned towards the woods, even Arrow growling intently at something Will couldn’t see in the dark.

He reached down and patted Arrow’s head for comfort.

“What is it, boy?”

He squinted, aiming his musket, peering into the darkness, trying to see anything in the shapes of the shadows. There was nothing. Not the lightest breeze moved a single leaf. The dogs stopped barking and shifted to low growls, every one of them looking in the same direction. 

From the forest blew a strong gust of cold wind, flakes of snow blowing with it, stinging as they hit Will’s bare chest. The force of it flung the back door open, along with half the shutters on the windows, leaving the house open to the night air. The cold prickled his skin and shuddered down his spine, and Will slowly lowered his musket, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good.

“What do you want?” he asked, his dogs all continuing to growl. There was not a second gust; after that the air became eerily still once again. Will watched the shadows move and heard the leaves rustle. The dogs suddenly scrambled away from the same spot on the ground, and Will looked down to see a black, wispy tendril weaving its way across his back lawn, slipping through the grass as it curled its way towards his bare feet.

More of them branched from the forest, heading directly for Will, and he inexplicably stood still and watched, even as they curled around his toes.

The tendrils snaked up his bare legs, bringing with them the strangest of sensations; cold and yet warm, prickling his skin but in a pleasant way, wispy and ethereal and yet powerful and real.

“What do you want?” he asked again, his voice quiet now, his eyes searching the trees for the face, for the teeth, for the claws.

The tendrils snaked up the legs of his cut trousers, twisting around his thighs, and then their intentions became clear. His heart raced with heat and uncertainty. He took a step back, and found he was able to.

The black wisps stilled in their approach, wrapped only around his shins and thighs, halting in place.

“I don’t…I don’t know.” he said. Nothing moved. Not the shadows, not his dogs, not himself. It became very clear to Will that he was being given time to think. As much time as he wanted, apparently. 

“You’re not upset with me for refusing to kill Beverly?”

The wind rose up again, rattling through the trees in a manner that sounded almost like a purr. One of the wisps rose up beside Will until it was his height. It stroked across his cheek in a way that couldn’t be called anything else but affectionate. He found himself closing his eyes and leaning into it, feeling the strange, ethereal sensation across his beard, warm and tingling and pleasant. Heat rose to his cheeks and reminded him of what he’d been doing just before it had arrived.

Then it pulled away, and he felt himself falter as he tried to lean further into it. Ten wisps appeared in front of him, embracing his body and righting him until he regained his balance. Then they began to pull away.

“Wait.” he said, his voice a soft whisper, his body still warm from all the teasing it had endured. “Come back.”

Everything moved at once, blackness entwining up his legs and arms, curling over his fingers, wrapping around his neck. Will felt every bit of it, warm smoothness over his bare skin, making everything tingle, making his nerves ring. His breath grew faster and he hardly believed this was real, and not some fantastical, pleasant nightmare.

The arms wound their way across every inch of his skin this time, breaching his trousers, slithering down the waist and up the legs to wrap around his cock. He groaned, his body tensing with anticipation, and he was not disappointed. His cock was encircled and then squeezed in gentle pulses, heat blooming through his body as his muscles went slack and he lost his balance again.

He fell into a nest of writhing blackness, which brought him back into his house and lay him on his bed. It continued stroking his cock, a pulsing feeling that was indescribably delicious and had Will bucking his hips up into the air, trying to control the sensations he felt to no avail. His fingers flew up to his trousers and he yanked them off, the motion not disturbing the wisps in their task at all. Two of them snaked up to slither over his nipples, making them perk up with desire, and he had no words to explain the sensations that sang through him.

His entire body was covered with moving, squirming black things, and he’d never been more turned on in his life. They were in his hair, over his face, stroking his cheeks, his lips, his neck. His fingers clasped around them, his hips bucking up into the nothingness of the air, his cock pulsing and throbbing in maddening pleasure.

He felt one of the wisps by his mouth grow more substantial, until it was thick and real. It pushed against his mouth and he opened eagerly, groaning as it slithered its way into him, feeling warm this time. Pleasant. Like a tongue.

He licked it through heavy gasps, his breath panting from his lips as his body became covered in sweat. Black tendrils wrapped around his arms, his legs, his throat, his torso. They even wound through his hair, gently brushing past his ears to caress his neck. Every part of him was surrounded and taken and he couldn’t have wished for anything else. The stroking on his cock intensified and he groaned, arching his back, bucking his hips, clutching the wispy black tendrils that wrapped around his fingers. He writhed on the bed, losing all sense of himself, his vision starting to swim, and it felt incredibly good.

The heat in his balls grew, his cock swelling until it was purple, his pre-cum slicking down the head, dripping onto his stomach with nothing to catch it. The thought of moving one of his hands to help himself along never occurred to him; he wanted the Wendigo to be his pleasure. His heart raced as his lungs panted, every part of him surrounded and willingly given.

With a deep groan he convulsed and came, his release squirting into the air and landing back on himself as if nothing were there. Through every wave of his orgasm he was stroked, the wind in the trees answering him with its own deep moan. Will collapsed onto his back, heaving.

Eyes half-lidded and dazed, Will watched the tendrils slowly retreat, uncurling from his limbs, pulling away from his body. They slinked out the window and door, nothing but the softest rustle of leaves following their path as they disappeared into the night. 

Will sank into a satisfied exhaustion, his body perfectly contented, his mind contemplating the fact that he now had two lovers. One of which was an ethereal evil spirit that, for whatever reason, had fallen in love with him. And he was apparently very fine with this.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Chapters 11 and 12 are a bit short each, so I decided to post them both at once.   
> Also, Chapter 11 is pure plot and Chapter 12 is pure smut, so they balance each other well.  
> So once you get to the end of Chapter 11, don't forget to keep reading!

When Will woke up, the sickness was gone. He yawned and stretched in the late afternoon sun, and felt more refreshed than he could ever remember feeling. The moment he shifted the dogs became restless, and instead of pretending to be asleep for a while longer (which never fooled them and usually got him a tongue to the face), he rose and brought the last of his stag meat outside to a pack of wagging tails.

“I’m gonna have to go hunting soon, just to feed you guys.” he said, ruffling Biscuit behind the ears while she ate. While Hannibal continued to insist he’d do anything for Will, and Will was starting to believe it, it didn’t feel right to ask him to cook for an entire pack of dogs.

He ate the last of Hannibal’s cooking and then took stock of his hunting supplies. He needed more bullets, and more gunpowder, and while he was at it, more whiskey. He got dressed, grabbed his purse, and opened his front door.

The minute he stepped outside, Jimmy Price leapt up from the ground where he’d been sitting, staring at Will’s door.

Will looked straight at him and their eyes met.

“Jimmy, no.”

“Sorry, Will.” he said, and then headed off down the road at a brisk jog to go tell Jack Will was well and had emerged from his house. Will sighed and rolled his eyes. It’s not like Jack wouldn’t have found out, anyway, if Will was going to head into town. He just didn’t feel like dealing with him _immediately_.

Will hadn’t even gotten _near_ Chiyoh’s ammunitions shop when he spotted Jack marching down the road towards him, Jimmy and Brian in tow. 

“Will. Town hall. Now.” he demanded when he was within earshot.

Something deep and feral rose within Will and bared its teeth. His fingers clenched and his muscles tensed, and he swore even a low growl came from his throat. The change in his disposition must have all been internal, however, because Jack didn’t stop in his march until he was a foot from Will’s face.

“You have information that is vital to this community and essential for our survival. We’re forming a militia to kill the monsters and I have a tactical meeting set up, but we need everything you know, Will.”

Though he didn’t give off a single visual indication of it, Will was suddenly aware that Jack was _afraid_. Afraid of the beast. And Will found this amusing. He struggled to keep himself from laughing, to keep the smile from showing on his lips.

It would be best to know what the enemy was planning. 

He paused at that thought, and mulled it over in his mind.

The enemy.

His eyes darted over Jack’s face.

While Will personally didn’t care much for him, he still was good for the town. He took protecting it and the people in it seriously. Given what the Wendigo had done to the town, it was a logical move for them to try to fight back. He couldn’t blame Jack for this course of action.

But he couldn’t let him succeed at it, either.

Will most certainly did not want the Wendigo dead.

“Alright. I’ll try to help.” he said. Jack nodded, satisfied, and Will followed them to the town hall.

A loud rabble assaulted his ears when he walked in. It seemed like everyone was there: Dr. Chilton, Abel Gideon, Bedelia, Alana, Margot, Abigail, Beverly, he even spotted Molly in the corner, looking out of place in her farmer’s overalls and muddy work boots. In fact the only person in the entire town who wasn’t present seemed to be Hannibal.

The noise ceased when Jack stepped into the center of the room, standing beside a table where twenty different, very inaccurate drawings of the Wendigo were laid.

“This emergency meeting has begun.” Jack said, and everyone grew quiet.

“We’ve all learned a lot of information about these ‘Wendigos,’” Jack began, his voice booming over the crowd as a thousand eyes stared at him. “Thanks to the book discovered by Abigail and Beverly, we have learned the name of the monsters that plague us. With that information, I was able to send people out to the towns and villages around us to see if there was anyone willing or able to help. With great fortune, we were indeed able to find help.”

Everyone who had been ignoring Jack up until that point fell silent. Will glanced over at Beverly, who gave him an encouraging smile, but there was no way for him to cross the crowded room to get near her. Alana and Abigail were similarly far away in the back corner, though Alana gave him a worried smile, and Abigail waved when she caught his eye.

“I present to you Mr. Rinaldo Pazzi, destroyer of evil spirits.” Jack said, turning to a side door that opened with his announcement. An older middle-aged man stepped through, a bit chubby, with very short, neatly-cut hair and a just as neatly-trimmed beard and mustache. He gave a warm, easy smile when he stepped out, though his face radiated seriousness and authority. He didn’t need to use a loud voice like Jack when he spoke; he had the air about him of a person that knew what he was doing.

“Hello, nice to meet you all.” he said. No one spoke.

Jack cleared his throat.

“Well, why don’t you tell them a little about yourself, Mr. Pazzi?”

The man nodded and folded his hands together in front of himself, as if he was entirely used to speaking in front of terrified crowds.

“I’ve been hunting and freeing villages of evil spirits most of my life. I know their habits, preferences, and weaknesses well. I have, in fact, run across a Wendigo or two before, and have managed to free those villages of their plague.”

Murmurs spread throughout the room, doubt on some faces and hope on others. Will glanced at all of them, trying to push down the repulsion that bristled up from within him. Beverly was rolling her eyes. Alana looked riveted.

“Do you have any proof of your claims?” Freddie’s voice sprang out, and for once, Will actually respected her interruption. He wanted to know himself.

“Well, as the people of Resston can tell you, I just freed them from the tyranny of a Ravenstag last week.”

Will’s jaw tightened and he clenched his fists. Oh, he did not like this man.

“I also have proof of that.” he said. “Which is how I intend to rid you of your Wendigo problem.”

Pazzi turned to the door he’d come from, and two men who looked like his servants came out, each carrying one end of a large trunk. They placed it on a table near the door and at Pazzi’s direction, undid the lock and swung the lid up.

Pazzi stepped forward and reached in, withdrawing from it what looked like a poorly-made wooden sword. It was knobby and had bends in it, though the handle was sanded and the blade was sharpened to a point fine enough to impale.

Will’s revulsion at seeing it was immediate. The feeling was powerful and he had to struggle to keep his teeth from baring in anger.

“I give you the rack of a Ravenstag, fashioned into a deadly sword.” Pazzi said with pride, and the murmurs in the crowd grew into awed whispers. “A very powerful weapon, doused with the magic of the creature I killed for it. This is capable of harming even your Wendigo.”

Will shifted uneasily. He had seen firsthand the powerful magic possessed by Ravenstags, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether this sword could really harm his…suitor. Fear and uncertainty crept their way up his spine.

“Thank you, Mr. Pazzi.” Jack said. “We are very grateful for your help in this matter. I have a team of volunteers who are willing to go with us into the Southern Forest to look for this creature and destroy it.”

Pazzi nodded, carefully placing the sword back into the trunk, and nodding to his servants to lock it back up. 

“Now, as I understand it, you have a survivor? Someone who has seen the beasts’ lair, and returned alive?”

A thousand eyes turned at once to stare at Will. He had a reminiscent feeling of once having been afraid of so much public attention but he no longer cared. There was only one pair of eyes that mattered to him now, and they weren’t present. 

But he was aware that a sudden change in his demeanor was not something he wanted to announce. So it was easy to call upon his old habits, and he looked frantically around the room for a place to hide, or someone to hide behind, appearing as nervous as the old Will Graham would have. He imagined he was bare before them, as if they could see it all—his betrayal, his belonging to the beast, what he had let it do to him last night.

He felt a hand clasp around his in reassurance, and looked down to find Abigail beside him. She gave him a nervous but warm smile, and he smiled back and squeezed her fingers in a silent thank you.

Though his nervousness had been a show, the warmth in his heart at her comfort was real.

“Will, what can you tell us about the Wendigos?” Jack interrupted, and it was all he could do not to roll his eyes at how impatient he was. Instead he did his best to appear jittery, the way he had spent most of his life.

“Well, there’s only one, now.” he said. “One of them killed the other.” Maybe knowing that would help them all to calm down?

He heard murmurs and saw a little relief creep onto some faces. 

“That’s excellent news.” Jack said, turning to Pazzi for confirmation that it was, indeed, excellent news. He nodded.

“Do you know which of them survived?” Pazzi asked, stepping closer to Will, which prompted him to step back, clasping Abigail’s hand more tightly. He must have looked absolutely pathetic—a grown man, clutching a teenage girl’s hand for reassurance. It was an excellent way to appear.

Will shrugged.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see.”

Jack frowned.

“Okay, well. What _did_ you see?”

Will closed his eyes and remembered back to that day. To the day Tobias had tried to claim him. His heart swelled at the moment his Wendigo came to his rescue.

“It…one of them picked me up.” he said. “And the other knocked me out of its mouth…and carried me off. Then they were moving through the woods, impossibly fast. Then, as they fought each other, I was dropped on the ground and was able to hide. I didn’t see much after that, I only heard. I heard them fighting, then I heard one scream as if it was dying, and then after that, only one set of footsteps stalking off.” he said.

While all the ears in the room were hanging on every word he spoke, Pazzi listened with intent.

“They were fighting over you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

At that, Will saw Freddie’s face light up with excitement.

“Yes, and before that, Hannibal and Tobias had been fighting over him.” she declared, with a little too much enthusiasm.

Will couldn’t keep himself from glaring at her. It was the anchor of Abigail’s hand that kept him from lunging across the room to tear out her throat with his teeth.

“Who are these people, this Hannibal and Tobias?” Pazzi asked, facing Will. Freddie’s mouth opened, but he spoke faster to cut her off.

“Hannibal is my suitor. He’s also one of the town doctors, and has saved a lot of lives this week.” he said pointedly, glaring mostly at Freddie, but looking around at other eyes when he spoke. He saw a lot of grateful nods in the room. He was starting to understand why Hannibal had helped so many. It gave him good standing amongst the townspeople.

“Hmmm.” Pazzi said. “And this other one?”

“He was a stranger.” Jack said, and Will literally bit down on his tongue to keep it from lashing in anger at Jack for daring to interrupt him. “He’d only arrived in town the day before. He claimed to know Will, and Hannibal, though that couldn’t be possible. Will has lived here his entire life, and Hannibal has been here for the last ten years or so. And now that you ask, I don’t know what happened to the stranger. He vanished after the monsters appeared, and no one has seen him since.”

Pazzi nodded, reaching a hand up to stroke through his beard, thinking. 

“This is all excellent information. You see, these things, these Wendigos, they have a very strange element to them. For reasons no one understands, they latch on to a human partner, like a curse, and follow that person about for their entire life. Often this person is not at fault,” he said, “and is otherwise a good person. Perhaps someone who, feeling the guilt of their curse and how it harms others, becomes a doctor, let us say, to try to do some good in the world where their curse causes such harm.”

The murmurs in the room became loud talking, then, as people exclaimed that it all made sense now, now they understood. Of course. Hannibal was cursed, why else would he be practically a recluse, living on the farthest outskirts of town? He was an excellent doctor, why, his medicines were practically magic. He was a good man, after all, trying to undo the curse of his Wendigo.

Will stood in angry silence, wanting to scream, snarl, and destroy everyone in front of him, but knowing that all that would do would confirm their accusations. He clutched Abigail’s hand tightly, and she squeezed back.

“These Wendigos, evil as they are, are very protective of their human counterparts. When Hannibal started courting…what was your name, son?”

Will was glad that his old personality made it unlikely for him to respond quickly, because he wasn’t sure what he would do if he opened his mouth.

“Will. His name is Will.” Jack said.

Pazzi nodded, hardly looking at Will, as if he was of no consequence.

“When Hannibal started courting Will, no doubt his Wendigo began to feel protective towards Will, as well. So when Tobias, a man who sounds as if he’d embraced the evilness of his situation, decided he fancied Will…well. Once the men fought, the evil spirits came to fight over Will, as well.”

Will’s face was stone. Whoever this Pazzi was and whatever he claimed to have done, he certainly knew _far_ too much. It made him extremely uneasy, and he wondered just how difficult it would be to sneak into Bedelia’s inn tonight and snap the man’s neck while he slept.

“As to the fate of this Tobias, once his Wendigo was killed, he most likely ran as far from this town as possible, knowing he would not be welcome here.” he concluded.

“How do we use this information to rid ourselves of Hannibal’s Wendigo, Mr. Pazzi?” Jack asked, ever the pragmatic leader.

“Well clearly, it has a weakness for Will, as it let him survive.” he said, turning to face him once again.

“When the creature stole you away, where did it take you, young man? Did you see its lair?”

Will kept the look of uneasiness on his face, letting his eyes dart around the room, flicking to Beverly, then to Alana for imaginary support while he thought through this situation. He knew where this was going. Jack would round up a rabble of townspeople, led by this Pazzi character with his abominable antler sword, and ask Will to lead them to where the Wendigo resided. 

Which was ridiculous, as it resided in all the forest. It didn’t require a shelter the way animals did. It didn’t have a ‘lair’.

Then they intended to kill it.

Instead, it would kill them.

“Did it take you to the Southern Forest, Will?” Jack prompted.

Will’s eyes flicked back to Pazzi’s and he stared directly into his face, holding his gaze so steadily the man took a small step back.

“Yes.” Will said, his voice too steady. He flicked his eyes away from Pazzi and looked at Jack, doing his best to appear unsettled.

“Do you know _where_ it took you?”

Will took time to swallow, as if his mouth was dry.

“Yes.”

Jack nodded again.

“Good. Then it must live near there.”

Will wanted to snort at that ridiculous assumption.

“I’ll need you to lead us to where it lives, Will. We will prepare for the next few days, and then make our attack. Can you do that for us?”

Jack’s eyes bore into his for just a moment, and briefly, Will almost felt sorry for his deception.

“Okay.” he said, knowing that whatever plan they hatched, it would be the death of whomever chose to follow him.

“Excellent. Thank you for your help.” Jack said. Will sighed as the attention turned away from him. He looked down at Abigail, who gave him an encouraging smile.

“You’re being really brave.” she said. He gave her a warm smile in return, grateful for her encouragement, though he no longer needed it.

The discussion between Jack and Pazzi continued, turning to logistics and asking for volunteers to sign up for the mission. Will was about to turn and go when he saw Alana in line. His eyes darted to Margot, who was standing with a worried face by the wall. He let go of Abigail’s hand and walked straight towards her.

“Alana.” he said. She turned and gave him a hard look.

“If you think you’re going to talk me out of this while you’re going yourself, think again.” she said. 

“Alana…”

“No, Will. I saw what it did to you. I saw how sick you were, and that wasn’t from any wandering through the winter, a winter which is _unnatural_ , by the way.” she said, her voice sharp, her eyes steel. “You look different since then.” she said. “You look pale. Unwell.”

Will’s eyebrows knitted together, and he wondered for a moment just exactly what he _did_ look like.

It didn’t really matter.

“Alana, please, if anything happened to you…”

“Same as if anything happened to you, or to Jack.” she said. He opened his mouth one more time to try to talk her out of it.

“I have a son to think about.” she said. “I need to make sure he’s safe.”

With that she turned her head away, indicating that the conversation was over. Will felt a wave of sadness come over him, and wondered then, if maybe he could ask Hannibal if there was a way she could be spared.

Hannibal. He had to talk to him about this entire situation, anyway. 

“I’m going to head home, then.” he said softly. “Get some rest.”

She nodded, her face harsh, her jaw sharp.

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight, Alana.”


	12. Chapter 12

Will finished his errands, buying bullets from Chiyoh and whiskey from Bedelia, then headed back out of town. It was evening when he walked past his house and neared Hannibal’s. His heart fluttered and his stomach churned; he wanted nothing more than to see him, and touch him, and taste him, yet he also had a confession to make about what he’d let the Wendigo do to him last night, which he wasn’t really sure how to bring up. And now there was this new issue with Pazzi.

Hannibal swung his door open for him before he even got a chance to knock.

“Will.” he said, a smile pricking both corners of his lips, which was about as wide a smile as Will had ever seen on him.

“Hey.” Will said.

“Come in.”

Will stepped in and Hannibal shut the door behind him, closing them off from the world. The tension from Will’s shoulders didn’t relax the way it normally did when he stepped into Hannibal’s house, however, and the astute doctor noticed immediately.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked, stepping forward and taking Will’s hand in his, his palm warm, his fingers sure.

Will sighed and leaned back against the wall beside the door. He hadn’t gotten two steps in before Hannibal knew something was off. Of the two things weighing on his mind, one was about ten times heavier, and he knew he had to get that off his chest first. He let his eyes flutter closed, unable to look Hannibal in the eye, not knowing how he would handle Will’s admission.

“You’ve always known that…the Wendigo was interested in…courting me, and it’s never bothered you.” Will said.

“That is correct.”

_Dammit, Hannibal, why do you always have to be so calm?_

Will let his eyelids slide up just enough so his eyes were slits, as if he could hide behind them, as if he could hide anything from his lover.

“Follow that line of thinking to its natural conclusion, what do you get?”

He watched Hannibal’s face for some clue as to how he felt, but as usual, he revealed nothing.

“I can think of several possibilities.” Hannibal replied. “I’m assuming you’re about to tell me one of them.”

Will sighed and reached the hand that Hannibal wasn’t holding up to press against his forehead.

“Why are you making this so difficult?”

“I’m not the one dancing around the subject, trying to avoid stating the plain truth.” Hannibal accused. Will yanked his hand away from his face, rolled his eyes, and rested his head forcefully against the wall behind him in annoyance.

“I had sex with it last night.” he spat, half-angry, hoping Hannibal was happy that’d he’d forced it out of him in such a crude manner.

“Did you now.” Hannibal said, his voice lower, deeper. Will’s eyes flew open to finally see an expression on his face, though desire was the _last_ thing he’d expected. Will swallowed.

“Yes.” he said softly, his eyes unable to leave Hannibal’s face as he drew closer.

“And how does that make you feel?” Hannibal asked, his voice gravelly and rough. Will’s heart beat faster as he felt Hannibal’s breath wash over his face. 

“Honestly I’d felt nervous about telling you. I didn’t know how _you’d_ feel…”

Hannibal’s lips were on his neck, and the squeak that left Will’s throat cut off the rest of his sentence. He rose up on his toes as the tingling sensation of heat blushed across his skin, over his shoulder and down his back.

Hannibal’s lips sucked his skin into his mouth, his tongue running over it before he released him, only to suck in another part of it. When he nuzzled in deep to where Will’s neck met his shoulder he squirmed under his touch, his breath coming faster, his free hand reaching up to wrap behind Hannibal’s back and pull him close.

“Haaaaan…” he said, unable to finish the word. Hannibal moved his wet, languid kisses up to the front of Will’s throat, underneath his chin, pushing it up to kiss the tender flesh there. His free hand rose to push against Will’s shoulder, and Will relented, melting into the wall behind him as Hannibal pressed his body up against it.

His tongue slithered along his jaw and up to his ear, where his mouth tickled it wetly as he spoke.

“How did it make you feel, Will, to have such a powerful creature bring pleasure to your body?”

Will’s knees grew weak and it took all of his energy to remain standing.

“Good. It felt good.” he said. “Incredible, actually…”

Hannibal hummed, and then his tongue was out, tracing around the shell of Will’s ear and then licking _into_ it, a sensation Will had never considered wanting in his life and finding himself surprisingly turned on by. He whimpered.

“Let me bring you pleasure, Will.” Hannibal whispered in his ear, and Will wasn’t able to do anything but nod.

Hannibal pulled away, his hand still linked to Will’s, and led him across the house and to his bedroom. They stood at the foot of the bed and Hannibal’s hands were roughly roaming Will’s body, his fingers tracing along the edges of his clothing, touching his skin, his face pressed into his hair, breathing his scent in.

Hannibal’s hands moved to the buttons, then tossed his shirt to the floor. Then his hands returned, his clothed chest pressing against Will’s bare back, his palms roaming over his abdomen, his stomach, his sides, his chest. His lips never left his flesh, moving from his shoulder to his neck to across his back.

“Hannibal…” Will whispered, his eyes closed as he was lost to the sensations. Hannibal’s hands wandered down over his thighs, pressing against him through the cloth, and he groaned and shuddered. Hannibal cupped him, rubbing his palm hard over his erection, and Will’s head fell back against his shoulder in a moan. Hannibal’s fingers worked the drawstring open and Will’s pants fell around his ankles, his cock hardly having time to feel the cool air of the room before Hannibal’s palm was on it, giving him long, firm strokes.

“Unf.” was all Will managed to say.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, my love.” Hannibal whispered. “And remove your boots for me.”

Will’s heart hammered as he did his best to comply, heat blooming across his skin and through his blood, chasing away whatever shyness he once might have felt being naked in someone else’s bedroom. 

When he had his boots off and had kicked his pants to the floor, he looked up to see Hannibal standing naked before him, thick salt-and-pepper hairs covering his muscular chest, leading in a trail down to his proud, erect cock. Will’s eyes slid half-closed at the sight. His gaze rose up to meet Hannibal’s, who did nothing more than lick his lips before he stepped forward, his lips back on Will’s neck, the warmth of his body radiating onto Will’s skin as his stomach pressed against Will’s knees.

“Mmm…” Will said, having to brace his hands on the bed to keep himself upright. Hannibal’s lips moved down his chest, then, tracing over his clavicle, his tongue licking its way down . He reached a nipple and eagerly sucked it into his mouth, eliciting a squeal from Will. His hands flew up to Hannibal’s hair, and Hannibal pushed back, making him sink down into the bed. Hannibal’s body covered him, hot and powerful, Will’s knees pressing into his hips, his cock brushing against Will’s thighs. Hannibal’s hands wandered over every part of him as his lips made his nipple more and more sensitive, until Will was writhing beneath him.

He lapped at it and Will cried out, and then his lips were gone, hastening their way in kisses down his stomach, causing it to flutter from ticklishness. When Will realized where he was headed, he grew tense.

“Hannibal, are you sure you want…”

“There is nothing more in this universe that I want.” he breathed into the hollow of Will’s hip, his chin and throat less than an inch from Will’s dick, though careful not to touch it. “Tell me that you do not want it, and I will cease.”

Will shut his eyes, feeling the heat of Hannibal’s breath wash over his hip, imagining it touching his cock instead.

“I want it. If you’re sure…”

Hot, wet lips kissed the crown of his dick, and he yelped. The lips then opened, an even hotter, wetter tongue gliding out to lick languidly over his stretched, sensitive flesh. High-pitched whimpers left Will as Hannibal lapped at him and kissed him, working his tongue over the head, licking under the ridge and over the tip, sucking up the drool with his lips. When he opened his mouth to fully suck the tip in, Will’s eyes flew open and he cried out loudly, his fingers clasping Hannibal’s hair tightly in his fists.

Hannibal sucked him down far. Deep, hot wetness pressed against Will’s erection on every side, with Hannibal’s tongue flattening against the bottom of his cock. He stroked Will with his tongue as he sucked him with his lips, bobbing his head up and down repeatedly, as if what he was tasting was the world’s finest delicacy. Will glimpsed his face and saw his eyes closed in rapture, his mouth working to taste as much of Will as he could, tongue and lips acting as if all they were ever made for was this.

He started to bob in a steady rhythm, and Will lost his self-control. Pleasure and lust overrode any of his other thoughts. He started to buck his hips, fucking his way into Hannibal’s mouth, which only obliged him in every way he wanted. Will sat up for better leverage, one hand splayed on the bed behind him, the other tangled in Hannibal’s hair as he thrust into his mouth, groaning with abandon.

“Hannibal, you make me feel so good…” he whispered, having no breath for anything more. Hannibal hummed in return, the pleasure clear in his voice, the vibration from it sending sparks up Will’s spine and down into his balls. Something feral and wild released in Will, and he knew it was the magic of the Wendigo, but here, in this house, he had no need to fight against it. Will let the growl that wanted to rise from him release into the room, a low and pleased sound that was nearly a purr.

Hannibal’s hands rose to clasp his hips, and then he dove down, pushing Will deep into his throat, until his nose was pressed into his pubic hair and his lips pushed against the top of his balls. Will snarled from pleasure, his head falling back as he bared his teeth to the ceiling, fire burning up from his belly and spreading through the rest of him. His eyes rolled back into his head and his fingers dug roughly into Hannibal’s hair, yanking on it with animal need. Hannibal moved again, swallowing, tightening around the tip of Will’s cock, until the pleasure refused to be contained.

With a loud cry Will came, his body hunching forward, his fingers clawing at Hannibal’s back as fire sprang through his body. He pounded his hips into Hannibal’s mouth, his fingers scraping deep into his back, the colors of the world changing as Will blissfully let the beast within him have control. It snarled and made him bare his teeth, and for a moment he was _free_ , every pulse of desire tearing him from the confines of the world.

Then it overwhelmed him and he collapsed onto his back, helpless, exhausted, panting. Hannibal rose and was right beside him, pressing his body up close to his, his face anything _but_ calm, radiating a thousand emotions, none of which Will could name.

“Beautiful thing.” Hannibal growled, pulling Will’s thigh between his legs, his _very_ hard erection pressing into his hip. Hannibal’s face was close to his, his lips pressing adoring kisses along his jaw until he pulled back and stared into Will’s face.

“Gorgeous.” he said, crushing his lips down onto Will’s. He moaned up into the kiss, moving his hands to wrap around Hannibal’s back, jerking his arms away when he felt wetness. 

Hannibal pulled his lips away and Will drew his hands in front of his face to find his fingertips covered in blood, Hannibal’s flesh beneath all ten of them. Hannibal grinned, his teeth sharp, his eyes dark as he slid his hands up Will’s arms to surround his wrists.

Some distant part of Will’s mind thought he should apologize, but the lascivious look on Hannibal’s face chased away that ridiculous thought. He ran his tongue up Will’s thumb, licking the blood off of it, his breath heavy and thick, his body rocking as he gently rubbed himself on Will’s hip. 

“You like this.” Will said, and Hannibal only growled, low and soft. Will’s heart raced faster.

“Tell me you don’t.” Hannibal whispered between his licks along Will’s bloodied hands. He took one of Will’s bloodied fingers and pressed it up close to Will’s face, and to Will’s astonishment, his mouth watered.

“Hannibal.” he whispered, his eyes falling half-lidded as his brain became lost in sensation once again: Hannibal’s cock rubbing against him, the post-coital hormones rushing through him, the delicious smell of the blood…of _Hannibal’s blood_ on his fingers, under his fingernails.

“It smells so good.” he whispered, and Hannibal stopped in his licking to lift his face and gaze deep into Will’s eyes.

“Do as you desire.” he said, his voice raspy and full of breath. Will became lost in his eyes, lost in the scent; better than whiskey, better than the finest dish he’d ever tasted. Hannibal’s eyes burned into his with anticipation, and Will was drawn to his own fingers, lifting his head closer to them even as he brought them to his lips.

The moment the flesh brushed his tongue, he knew. He knew what Hannibal had been feeding him all this time and his heart bloomed at the thought of how well he’d been taken care of. The flavor burned down his throat with potent, raw power, so good that he groaned, eagerly sucking the flesh from under his nails and into his mouth.

He sucked on his own fingers the way Hannibal had sucked his cock, lost in the sensations of flavor and smell and the sound of Hannibal’s moans in his ear, the press of his cock as Hannibal rutted faster against his hip.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you?” Will whispered, his brain swimming from the flavor of the flesh and the foggy satisfaction of his own release.

Hannibal lifted his face just enough to lock his eyes onto Will, dark and hungry.

“More than anything.”

Will gazed back at him, drowning in all the loveliness that surrounded him and filled him.

“Why haven’t you?”

He saw the struggle on Hannibal’s face. It was as plain as day, his emotions were entirely bare now; the mask he usually wore completely shattered.

“It is not yet time.” he managed to breathe, and Will raised an eyebrow, bringing the next flesh-covered finger to his lips and sucking it slowly down into his mouth.

Hannibal came, his body shuddering with pleasure beside Will’s, his release spreading all over Will’s thigh, his voice letting out a long, deep moan. Will had licked one hand entirely clean now, and he stroked it through Hannibal’s messy hair. Hannibal’s mouth joined him in licking the flesh from his fingers on his other hand until there wasn’t a single morsel left.

They collapsed in an exhausted heap, Hannibal’s face buried in Will’s neck, his gentle breaths tickling his skin as his cum cooled on Will’s thigh.

“I want you to.” Will said, lost in the glow of his body, of the room, of the air. “I’ve already had the Wendigo inside me, down into my stomach. I should also have you.”

“Mmmm.” Hannibal said, pressing his lips gently to Will’s neck, unable to move any other parts of himself.

“When you fully know what you have entered into.” Hannibal said softly. “Not before.”

Will gave a small sigh, but knew he would not win this argument, because Hannibal was right. The more he learned, the more lost he felt.

“My mind is uncertain and confused, bogged down by a thousand unanswered questions.” Will said softly. “But my heart understands entirely.”

Hannibal’s lips pressed gentle, sweet kisses to his shoulder before he turned on his side enough so that he faced Will and could speak.

“There are no words you could have uttered that would make me happier.” Hannibal said. “We will help your mind to understand, in due time.”

Will lifted his now cleaned hand up above his face, staring at it in the moonlight that filtered in through the window.

“Can I only eat human flesh, now?” he asked, thinking of how sick the basket of fruit Beverly had brought him made him feel. “Is it in everything you’ve been feeding me?”

Hannibal nodded sleepily beside him.

“You can consume other things, but without a human ingredient, your body will reject it.”

Will contemplated everything Hannibal had made for him within the past week.

“Even the biscuits?”

“Human bone meal.”

“The green beans?”

“Human oil.”

Will lowered his hand again, the strongest feeling in him being curiosity at how not horrified he was.

“Dammit, that means I can’t have the whiskey I bought in town, doesn’t it?”

At that, Hannibal chuckled, which for anyone else might have been raucous laughter. He ran his fingers through Will’s hair and gave him a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I can add something to the whiskey so you can drink it.” he said, his voice full of affection. “And give me a season, and I will brew some of my own for you.”

At that, a deep, rosy feeling of affection bloomed over Will’s body. He curled into Hannibal who reached down to pull the blanket up over them, nestling them together, separate and different from the rest of the world.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you about Pazzi…” Will said through a sleepy yawn.

“Tell me in the morning, love.” Hannibal said, and Will nodded, all the tension gone, perfectly relaxed in blissful sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Will woke up to the sound of a door being slammed open. He jolted into a sitting position, wondering why his dogs hadn’t warned him of danger when he remembered where he was. His eyes darted over to Hannibal who sat up beside him, his back covered in Will’s claw marks and dried blood, attention focused on the door of the bedroom. They heard Jack’s voice echo through the house, along with the footsteps of several people.

Will immediately snarled and bared his teeth, a feral growl emanating from his throat that barely sounded human. He flew to his feet, his fingers extended as if they were claws, ready to attack.

Hannibal’s hand firmly clasped around Will’s wrist and pulled him back.

“Hide it, Will. We don’t need them to know that you are becoming.”

Hannibal held Will’s gaze and moved his other hand up to his cheek, gently stroking it until he calmed, the tension leaving his shoulders, his lips closing over his teeth.

Hannibal rose and removed his robe from the wardrobe, throwing it over his body quickly.

“Pull up the covers.” he said, and the sentence was confusing enough that it removed the rest of the tension from Will.

“Hide the blood.” Hannibal clarified, and Will understood. Aware that he was also naked, Will slipped back under the covers and pulled them up to his neck, hiding the blood-stained sheets beneath just as the door of the bedroom flew open, Jack marching in through it.

“Hannibal, we cannot have you helping the creature, or warning it. I was a fool to let Will go last night.” he said, his eyes darting down to Will lying naked in Hannibal’s bed. “Of course he would tell you our plans. I cannot let you communicate with it.”

Will jerked back up into a sitting position, this time showing the fearful and worried demeanor that would be expected of him.

“Jack, you can’t…”

“Turn around.” Jack said, pulling out a length of rope from his pocket. Hannibal obeyed, putting his hands behind his back to be tied.

“At least let him get _dressed_ first!” Will cried, wanting to rise to his feet, his nakedness preventing him from doing so. “Just wait outside the door, Jack! Have one of your men stand outside the window if it makes you happy, but have some decency!”

Jack looked over to Will with what looked like sympathy. His eyes raked over his bare chest in a way that made Will’s nerves bristle with rage. He contained it all, keeping the fearful, nervous man on the surface.

“Will, I’m sorry. Of course.” he turned and gestured for everyone to move back out through the door, and slammed it behind him.

Will flew to his feet, wrapping his arms tightly around Hannibal.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell you about what Jack was planning, though I didn’t know he was going to do _this_ …”

“Will.”

“We’ll escape through the window. We can take a single man…”

“Will.” Hannibal repeated, his hands rising up to cup both of Will’s cheeks, so warm, so gentle. He stopped speaking and looked up into his eyes.

“It’s alright.” he said.

He turned away from Will and opened his wardrobe again, poring over it as if he were selecting clothes to go to dinner at the Vergers’.

“They have this man, Rinaldo Pazzi, at first I thought he was a sham but then he knew _everything_ …”

Hannibal chuckled softly as he shucked off his robe, revealing the deep gouges across his back. 

“I highly doubt that.” he said, and Will fell silent, his eyes raking over the marks. They looked…much _deeper_ than he remembered, and he looked down at his fingers again, trying to recall exactly what had happened last night.

“Did I…hurt you?” he asked.

“Not at all.” was Hannibal’s reply, and his movements verified that as he pulled on his clothes, bending easily to pull on his trousers, shirt, and suit jacket.

“They look…so deep.”

Hannibal gave him a flirtatious smile.

“They are.” he said. He walked forward and placed his finger under Will’s chin, lifting it towards his lips. Will went, drawn to Hannibal’s lips without thought, savoring the feel of them for perhaps the last time in a long while. Hannibal pulled away, the smile in his eyes curling up at the corners, making Will’s heart glow.

“You have marked me, my beloved, and there is nothing that can separate us now. Certainly not a few days in a jail cell.”

“But they’re going to try to kill the Wendigo…”

“And that will be the death of them.”

Will swallowed and was unable to hide the uneasiness on his face.

“It’s just unsettling, how much Pazzi knows, what he claims he’s done…”

“What he _thinks_ he knows.” Hannibal reassured, stroking his fingers across Will’s cheek. “He knows nothing of your becoming, and when he learns, it will be too late for him.”

Will wanted to argue further, but then Jack’s fist was pounding on the door, his loud voice invading the sanctity of their bedroom. 

“I’m coming out, Jack. No need to get impatient.” Hannibal said. He placed one last kiss on Will’s forehead and pushed his clothes into his hands. He waited for Will to get them on and opened the door, where he was greeted with rope tied roughly around his wrists and marched out of the house and down the road, with Will storming angrily beside him, glaring daggers at Jack the entire way.

* * *

Will spent the next six hours sitting in the jailhouse, scowling at Jack, who would not let Hannibal have visitors unless he was present. When it became dinner time, however, Jack insisted that Will leave so he could go home to Bella. 

“Spend the night in your own bed, and you can come back in the morning.” Jack said.

“You go home to your lover while mine is locked in a jail cell.” he snapped. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Will, I sat here for all these hours with you as a _courtesy_ …”

Will’s fingers tensed into fists. Hannibal slipped a hand through the bars and rested it on his shoulder.

“I would like some dinner too, my love.” he said. “Why don’t you let Jack leave, and bring me something to eat?”

“You will be fed, Hannibal. Bella always cooks for three when there’s someone in the jail. She’s probably making it right now.”

“I would much prefer something from my own kitchen.” Hannibal said, and at his slightly odd tone, Will turned to face him.

“I have very select dietary requirements.”

Dawning lit up Will’s face, and he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. Hannibal couldn’t eat regular food. He had to have a human ingredient.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Fine. If it gets him to leave so I can eat my own dinner, _fine_. Go get Hannibal something to eat, and meet me back here in an hour.”

Will nodded, tilting his head forward to press a kiss to Hannibal’s lips through the bars.

They left, Jack locking the door behind them so no one could enter, and Will headed home.

His own stomach growled, though first he stopped home to feed his dogs. He’d forgotten that he was out of stag meat and rushed back into town to buy some, to the annoying amusement of Abel Gideon. He fed his dogs quickly, though he made sure to give each one a quick ear-rub, apologizing to them for not being home much lately.

He rushed to Hannibal’s house and raided his kitchen, his stomach growling as he searched it for food. There wasn’t much. He found half a loaf of bread, a small jar of cured meats, and a basket of vegetables that he knew were inedible when he sniffed them and felt nauseous. He did some more searching, going out back to the meat shed, preparing himself for what he might find when he opened it.

There was a pile of bones in the corner, which he instantly recognized as non-stag, picked clean. There was nothing as tell-tale as a skull, but he knew who some of those bones belonged to, and still found the idea a bit unsettling. He walked to a row of cabinets and opened them to find, to his relief, a nice salted steak, still raw.

He had no idea how to cook other than roasting meat over a fire, which he didn’t have time to build. He fired up the stove and sat a pan atop it, throwing in the steak whole, knowing it was going to taste awful. While he waited for it to cook he sat at the table munching on the cured meat, glaring at the jar in anger, his mind churning at what he was going to do to Jack.

When the steak looked done (it was considerably more burnt on one side), he threw it, the bread, and the cured meats into a basket and headed back into town. It was dark when he left, and he was glad for his years of hunting at night so that he knew the way into town without more than the light of the moon.

He came to the jailhouse door and cursed at it when it was locked, pounding his fist against it loudly, ensuring that Jack could hear him from inside his house next door.

“Jack! I’m back! It’s been an hour and a half, let me in!” he screamed in the direction of Jack’s house.

He continued pounding on the jailhouse door, if only because finally being able to hit _something_ made him feel better. As time passed and Jack didn’t come out, Will started hitting it harder, until he was punching the wood, his knuckles growing raw, then bleeding, leaving smears of blood on the wooden door.

“Jack Crawford you lying asshole!” he screamed, starting to feel desperation claw its way up into his heart.

He started kicking the door, then started ramming it with his shoulder, causing nothing but the lock to rattle, mocking him.

Inside, Hannibal was probably starving. He hadn’t had breakfast. He hadn’t had lunch.

“Jack, you promised you’d let me bring him dinner, you lying bastard!” he screamed into the night.

“Will.”

He turned to see Bella, her kind face contorted with compassion.

“He won’t let me see him. All I want to do is bring him dinner…” he said between heavy pants, aware that sweat was dripping down his face, aware that his hands were a bloody mess.

“He’s been fed.” came Jack’s voice, harsh and grating on Will’s nerves, as he walked up behind Bella. Will glared.

“Jack.” Bella said, turning around to face her husband. “Have a little compassion.”

“His _suitor_ is cursed with a beast that _killed fourteen people_ , Bella!”

She cocked her head to the side in an expression that would make anyone falter. Jack’s mouth opened, then closed again, and he sighed.

“Yes, dear.”

Bella turned as Jack marched towards the door, key out, and her eyes met Will’s over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” he said to her as he scooped up the basket of food, trying to show every ounce of his gratefulness in his voice. She smiled warmly at him, worry lines surrounding her eyes.

When Jack had the door open Will pushed his way through, the glower on his face melting away when he saw Hannibal. He looked up at him with tired eyes that flicked straight to the basket, even before Jack had the lanterns lit.

“I brought you some dinner.” Will said, not hiding an ounce of his worry. Hannibal rose quickly and came to him, their lips meeting through the bars.

“I was so hungry; thank you, my love.”

Jack rolled his eyes and Will ignored him, handing Hannibal the cloth he’d laid over the basket, then placing the food into it one at a time.

“Well, you wouldn’t be hungry if you’d eaten the food Bella made for you.” Jack said, frowning at the bowl of cold chowder and hunk of bread that lay on the floor, beside Hannibal’s bed.

Hannibal gave Will another quick peck on the cheek and then walked to the bed, laying out the cloth as if it were a picnic, eating hurriedly and with his hands, yet in a more civilized manner than most people would at a table with a knife and fork.

Nobody replied to Jack.

“Alright, he’s fed now, can we go?”

“You can go.” Will said.

“Will, we’ve been through this. Visitors cannot be…”

“I’m staying the night, Jack.”

Before Jack could reply, Hannibal spoke up, his voice carrying the same calm demeanor he always had when he was in public.

“Will, that won’t be necessary.” he said through his bites.

“I’m not leaving you to rot in here alone.”

He saw the affection on Hannibal’s face, which must have been very plain, because at that even Jack’s expression softened some.

“I will be fine. I need you to go and prepare meals for me, for tomorrow.”

Will shook his head automatically, opening his mouth to argue, when Hannibal rose from his bed and walked towards Will, pulling his hands through the bars to hold them warmly in his palms. He became distracted by the blood on Will’s knuckles, and gently brought his hands to his lips, softly kissing them. Jack turned away in disgust, and Hannibal’s eyes snapped up to Wills as his tongue darted out, licking at the blood on Will’s knuckles, making a show of savoring it as he swallowed and it slipped down his throat.

Will’s knees grew weak and his cock stirred. His eyes remained locked onto Hannibal’s and they held each other’s gaze, Hannibal’s expression deep and urgent when he spoke.

“I need you to hunt for me, Will.” he said, rising to his full stature. “This was the last of the meat prepared in my slaughterhouse.”

Will stared back at him, his heart racing faster as he understood. He swallowed thickly, his gaze trapped by Hannibal’s, the awareness that he was going to have to kill somebody to feed them both becoming more real in his mind.

“It won’t…it won’t be very good.” he said. Hannibal gave him a soft smile, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. Jack snorted with annoyance.

“Nonsense. You are an excellent hunter.” he said. Will swallowed thickly, knowing that Hannibal was right. 

“I meant…I meant the cooking won’t be very good. All I know how to do is roast.”

“That will do just fine.” he said. “I trust you to take care of me.”

Hannibal leaned forward and pressed his lips to Will’s, giving him a long, wet, open-mouthed kiss. Will groaned up into it, pressing his body up against the bars, feeling parts of Hannibal touch him through the gaps.

“Okay, okay, enough lovebird nonsense.” Jack said. Hannibal pulled away slowly from him, and Will backed up reluctantly, heading towards the door.

“You’ll be fine.” Hannibal reassured, and then Will was ushered out the door and back into the street.

* * *

Will had always done his best hunting at night. He left the jailhouse and headed down the road in the direction of his house, then doubled back through the east woods, slinking behind the buildings; past the tavern, the armory, the bakery. He waited in the shadows for the evening life to die down, watching people leaving Bedelia’s, tipsy and raucous as they laughed their way home, stumbling in each other’s arms.

Will had never particularly understood social drinking.

He busied himself whittling a stick with his trusted hunting knife while he leaned against the side of Abel’s butchery, wondering who would be the unlucky one to cross his path this night. His hands shook from nerves; not that he was afraid of killing, but that he was afraid of who his choices were going to be. There were a lot of people in this town that he wouldn’t mind living without. But there were a few that he would miss. 

He also knew that he couldn’t afford to be picky. Come breakfast, he and Hannibal would have nothing to eat. 

So _someone_ was going to die.

He considered briefly breaking into the home of a person he didn’t care for: Chilton came to mind, and Freddie. But that would be too risky. Too easy to get caught. Chilton probably had patients sleeping in his house and Freddie always had someone in her bed -- whomever she thought she could get the juiciest gossip from that night.

Main street had been silent for a long while, with nothing but the softest hint of a breeze. The chill of the night air grew a bit sharp, and Will realized for the first time that week that fall was coming. He pulled up the collar of his jacket to stave off the chill.

Soft footsteps approached on the packed dirt of the street and Will turned his face towards the sound. There were two sets: one of something four-legged with hooves, too small to be a horse, and another from a man with a very erratic, unstable walk.

The grunt of a pig settled it for him, and Will let a sly grin part his lips. 

This one he wouldn’t mind killing at all.

Knuckles rapped in an odd manner on the door of Abel’s house, and he creaked it open with a grunt.

“Mason Verger.” came the smooth voice of the town butcher. “To what do I owe the pleasure in the middle of the night?”

“I’ve brought you a _lovely_ specimen, Abel.” Mason said, his proud and quirky voice grating on Will’s nerves. “Meet Sardenia, an old but fattened sow, too mature now to give birth to piglets, past her prime. So I thought I’d sell her to you for her weight in pork.”

“This couldn’t wait until morning?” Abel complained. “Between you and Will Graham, I never get any proper sleep. Though come to think of it, he hasn’t been around in a while, and I’m low on meat. It’s your lucky day.” he said.

Mason let out a gleeful giggle that sounded as insane as Margot complained that he was.

The only reason Mason was alive at all was because of the intervention of his sister, who, out of obligation to her late mother, gave him a loan to start a pig farm. He was as insane as he was rude, and nobody in town would ever have had anything to do with him—were it not for the fact he actually wound up being _excellent_ at raising pigs, and was the place to go if you wanted some nice, juicy pork.

How Alana had managed to get pregnant by him was still a mystery to Will. She never did divulge that secret.

But he knew there was no way in hell it was through traditional means.

He heard the jingling of coins as they were placed into Mason’s purse, and the sound of the drawstring being zipped up in haste.

“Thank you, Mr. Gideon.” Mason said, inhaling through his teeth. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“And with you, Mr. Verger.” Abel said, his voice equally as syrupy, though his sentence was punctuated by the slamming of his front door.

“Well. Some people just have _no_ manners.” Mason said, to no one at all, and turned on his heel to head back towards his pig farm.

Will darted behind buildings, staying in the shadows, easily keeping silent. He was quick on his feet; faster than he’d ever recalled being, actually, as he stole glances of his prey between the alleyways. When Mason left the main town and headed onto the country road, Will followed him in the shadows of the woods, his feet not making a single sound on the leaves below him. He should have found it odd, but instead he found it _right_ , and he didn’t question how he was able to move so silently, and remain so hidden as he stalked Mason down the road in the night.

Finally, when he felt they were far enough from town that no one would hear, Will darted out of the trees directly in front of Mason’s path.

“Holy _Christ_.” he said. “What the hell are you?” He stepped forward, squinting in the dim light that came from a sliver of a moon. 

Will realized that somehow, Mason didn’t recognize him. For some reason, he found this amusing. He grinned.

Mason’s eyes grew wide with wonder, which Will realized on a sane person would have been fear.

“Not every day I’m lucky enough to meet the likes of you. I suppose you’re here to kill me.” he said.

“Yes.” was Will’s reply, his voice gravelly and raspy, almost sounding inhuman. “You will serve a much more noble purpose in death than you did in life, Mason Verger.”

At that, Mason’s eyes grew wide with horror.

“Will Graham?” he said, and those were his last words, as Will’s claws darted out to slash his neck, four clean swipes, almost severing it. Blood spewed forth from his neck, drenching Will in it, and he closed his eyes in bliss as it covered him. 

He darted forward and grabbed the corpse before it fell, pulling the gushing wound to his lips and closing them over it to suck the delicious blood into his mouth. He drank, and groaned from the satisfying flavor, feeling it feed his strength. He drank, and drank, the blood pouring down his front, covering his chin, his neck, his clothes. His slurping sounds were loud and echoed off the trees, and when he had drained every drop from the body he raised his head to the sky in ecstasy, savoring the last swallow.

He licked his chops, his tongue reaching much too far up his cheeks, and slung the body over his shoulder with ease to carry it to Hannibal’s slaughterhouse. He darted back into the woods and followed the familiar trails home, aware that the forest animals stayed far, far clear of him, and feeling a warm glow in his heart because of it.

He was becoming, and it was making him closer to Hannibal. 


	14. Chapter 14

Will woke up squinting in the sunlight. He lifted a hand to his face, the sound of the birds chirping and the feel of a light breeze over his skin making him realize he was lying outside. He sat up and took stock of his surroundings: there were patches of dirt and dried grass beneath him; he was a few feet from Hannibal’s slaughterhouse; he was drenched in blood; and he was naked.

He rose, the dried blood on his skin crackling as he moved. He vaguely remembered last night after killing Mason, and desperately hoped that whatever he’d done, there was at least _something_ left for Hannibal to eat.

He pushed the slaughterhouse door open to find carnage. Fresh blood spattered the walls, covering old stains; the workbench was drenched, as was the floor. Will looked down at the footprints in the dirt and saw his own, and also…his own. But a lot of them were larger; sharp gouges in the ground where claws had dug in rather than toes. He tried to remember, but all he got were flashes and a remembrance of delicious, delicious food.

He glanced at the workbench again and sighed with relief to find that most of a torso remained. He picked up the cleaver wedged into the wood at the end and began chopping it into chunks small enough to hide their human origins.

When he had a good amount he went outside and started a roasting fire, not caring that he was covered in dried blood and not caring that he was naked. He whittled a large stake and skewered the meat onto it, slowly turning it over the fire, enough meat for at least two days’ worth of food for the both of them.

He never found his clothes. He scrubbed the blood off of himself by the back water pump, gritting his teeth against the cold, not wanting to waste time heating up water for a bath. He opened Hannibal’s wardrobe and put on the most practical clothes he could find, which were still far too fancy for his taste. He packed the meat up in a basket and took the path through the woods towards town, avoiding the road. He dared anyone to cross his path, flexing his fingers, wanting to use them to kill again.

He arrived in front of the jailhouse to find it locked, Jack nowhere in sight. Instead Bella sat dutifully in front of it, her head lifting with a kind smile when he approached.

“Everyone is at town hall, ready to go on the attack.” she said. “Jack insisted that you join them immediately, but I told him you were going to have a few minutes with Hannibal first.”

Will gave her a genuine smile.

“Thank you, Bella. If only half the people in this town were like you.”

She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and pulled out the key, letting Will into the jailhouse. 

She very politely stayed outside.

Will approached the bars, basket clutched in hand, and watched Hannibal rise with dark, burning eyes. His grin was wide and wicked as he moved towards Will, their lips meeting in a hungry, desperate kiss before any words were exchanged.

Will reached into the basket and lifted up a chunk of human roast. Hannibal pulled his lips away from Will’s just enough so that Will could slip the meat in between them, and together they each took a bite. 

Hannibal groaned from pleasure.

“Perfect.” he said. “Who did you trouble for it?”

Will’s eyes met Hannibal’s as they both chewed and swallowed, then took second bites.

“Mason Verger.” Will said.

Hannibal’s grin widened.

“I knew you had good taste.”

When the meat was gone, Hannibal’s lips were back upon Will’s, sucking on them with tongue and teeth as hungrily as he’d eaten Mason. Will groaned up into his attentions, letting the empty basket fall to the ground as he slinked his arms through the bars, pulling Hannibal close to him.

“You look positively radiant.” Hannibal whispered in his ear, moving his lips down Will’s jaw until the bars prevented him from going further.

“I had an incredible experience last night.” Will whispered. “The only part I regret is not remembering it all.”

Hannibal’s palm was upon his cheek, his eyes dark and pleased.

“That will come, in time.” he said. “But for now, you have an enemy to rid us of.”

No doubt that if Bella overheard, she would think they meant the Wendigo.

Will nodded, giving Hannibal another kiss before pulling back just enough so that they could have a proper conversation. He formulated his words carefully, needing answers but aware of who might overhear.

“Is there…danger?” he asked.

Hannibal nodded slightly.

“There is some.”

Will’s brow furrowed as he tried to understand.

“But with an ally such as you, very little.” Hannibal replied. “I am not greatly concerned.”

Will pressed his lips tightly together in doubt.

“You will do fine, Will. You will know the correct actions to take. It will be clear.”

Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes and saw in them that he wished to say more, but it was too late now, for sharing secrets.

Instead he reached down and took Will’s hand up to his lips, pressing a long, wet kiss to the back of his hand.

“Make me proud, my beloved.”

Will tried to give him a smile, but his worry was too great. He turned and left, consoling himself with the fact that at least Hannibal wouldn’t be in any danger.

Will entered town hall as Pazzi was speaking, his voice carrying over the crowd as they all listened intently to his instructions. Everyone was armed, a musket or knife in every hand, along with the wooden stag-sword in Pazzi’s.

Jack looked up when he arrived and motioned for him to come near.

“Here he is, our guide.” Pazzi said. “With your direction, Will, we shall prevail over this monster.”

Will glanced out at the crowd, then quickly to the ground, biting on his lower lip. This time he didn’t have to fake his nervousness; it was genuine.

“Here.” Jack said, handing a knife to him. 

“I have my own.” Will replied, and Jack shook his head sharply.

“This one’s enchanted. Pazzi cast a spell over all our weapons, to make them able to damage the monster.”

Jack pressed the knife firmly into Will’s hand. It _burned_. His palm prickled with fiery pain and a chill of fear shot down Will’s spine as he realized the enchantment _worked_. His instinct was to drop it; but he forced him to bear it until Jack turned away. Then he quickly slipped the knife into his belt, to be disposed of at the earliest opportunity. He held his palm up, shaking from pain, which faded slowly as the scar from the knife’s hilt set in his sk He swallowed thickly and closed his fingers to hide the damage. He looked around the room, finally taking stock of the twenty-or-so people in it, and more importantly, their weapons.

“Are all the weapons enchanted?” he asked. Jack nodded.

“The knives and the bullets. All of them.” he said. 

Will was glad he didn’t need to hide the uneasy feeling he was having, because he didn’t think he’d be able to. He caught Alana’s eye from across the room, and she gave him a weak and uncertain smile, which he returned, just as shakily.

“Alright people, let’s move!” Jack cried, and the crowd poured out into the street, every face solemn, prepared for battle, voices subdued and serious.

Will led them, Jack and Pazzi talking in loud whispers behind him as he walked through the western woods and turned south. The soft chattering of the people behind them fell silent as the ground became covered in a dusting of snow. Then there was nothing but their footsteps crunching on the leaves; though to Will it still sounded like a herd of horses, loud and intrusive and uninvited.

The snow grew deeper, and he realized he hadn’t prepared for the cold. He turned behind him to see people buttoning up their coats, crossing their arms in shivers, and yet he didn’t feel cold at all. The cool air felt fresh and crisp to him and he enjoyed it as he lifted his feet up to walk in the six-inch snow.

Now and then he glanced back at Alana, the only person in this rabble whom he cared about. He knew most of what happened would be entirely out of his control, but if there was a way he could get her back home alive, he was going to try for it.

“How much further, Will?” Jack whispered.

Will lifted his head up and pretended to look around, studying the trees as if to get his bearings, when in reality, he knew exactly where he was going. He could feel it getting closer, an electric tingling on his skin that pricked up the hairs and made him feel warm on the back of his neck. 

“Soon.” he said, and continued leading them deeper in, closer to his lover, closer to their deaths.

The wind picked up in a sharp sting, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come, and everything was still. Will froze, and the people behind him stilled, though they were still so _noisy_ , shifting their feet, fumbling with their weapons, leaning in to whisper in each other’s ears.

Will snapped his head up to listen, and everyone turned to follow his lead. He could feel it curling from behind him; he saw the shadows shifting in different directions, gathering together, and heard a low, sweet purr that could easily have been mistaken for creaking branches to anyone else.

“Are we close, Will?” Jack whispered, though his whisper was so disruptive he might as well have shouted it.

Will didn’t reply.

An ear-piercing screech echoed through the leafless trees from every direction, and the snow on the ground began to rise in humps. One after another the humps rose up, two feet, three feet high, more and more of them until they formed a huge circle, enclosing the pack of humans in the center. Will heard the sound of guns being drawn to the ready and saw knives being held out in shaking hands.

The humps of snow exploded, showering ice down upon the crowd, and out of them came teeth.

Blacker than a moonless night, four-legged shadow things with teeth attacked, aiming for the feet of their enemies. Two people were yanked to the ground screaming, the blood from their severed legs splashing over the red snow.

“Now! Attack!” Jack cried. The shadow-beast that attacked Jack was met in the face with his knife, and it shrieked as the blade pierced it, causing the head to vanish into the air like smoke. The body writhed and flailed, claws slashing in every direction, but Jack was an excellent fighter. Will watched him skillfully dodge the claws and sever the front legs from the torso, then slice through the center of it, dispelling it into wisps of smoke.

Will heard the sound of gunshots, and observed more of the shadow-creatures being blown apart, their darkness swirling in the air where they’d been before dissipating into nothingness. Limbs were torn from human bodies as well, tossed into the forest of trunks, leaving trails of blood across the snow accompanied by human screams.

Amongst it all, Will watched. Not one of the shadow things approached him.

“Kill them all!” Pazzi cried, slashing his abhorrent Ravenstag-antler sword through a creature. “Once we have destroyed its army, it will have to appear itself!”

Through it all, Will remained still. The shrieks of the smaller shadow-things were unpleasant to his ears, but while he didn’t quite understand what they were, he also knew they were not the Wendigo. So he remained an observer, until the last of them was destroyed, the pack of humans huddled together in a mass, exhausted, bleeding, down a few in number, but victorious.

Then there was a loud, deep rumble, and they all turned to face the direction the sound had come from. Will’s ears tingled and his skin prickled, and he knew now that his Wendigo was coming. He wasn’t certain why it should bother to appear, other than he felt its rage: seething anger that peeled off the trees and out of the snow, forming the legs, then the torso, the arms elongating until the head materialized, its antlers growing until they reached far into the branches above.

“ _Now_ , Pazzi!” Jack cried. Will’s head snapped to stare at the stranger, who was chanting what sounded like a spell as he held out his open palm. In it was a pile of some kind of dust. He blew, the dust flying to surround his sword, which took on a bright orange glow. The glow then expanded to surround the Wendigo’s ankles in a circle, wrapping around them like a snare. It shrieked, its maw opening to nearly half the size of its body, bearing all of its teeth, each longer than the arm of a human. Its arms also grew, growing longer until they were six, seven feet long, and it lashed out with its claws, just shy of being able to reach Pazzi and slice his head off, as its feet remained rooted to the ground by the glowing circle.

“It is held!” Pazzi cried. “Attack!”

The people, who had been standing in frozen horror, all moved together towards it. Still, Will watched, knowing that it was not yet time for him to act. 

The snow burst up from the ground between the attackers and the Wendigo, a second wave of shadow-beasts rising to defend it.

“It’s growing weaker! Kill them while I hold it steady!” Pazzi cried, his arm quivering as he held the glowing sword out in front of him.

The beasts attacked, and the humans fought back, their tightly-held formation being slowly dismantled as they were pulled into a second battle, exhausted and bleeding.

_Then_ , when the chaos had grown enough so that no one would notice, Will moved.

He yanked the enchanted knife from his belt and tossed it far into the trees. He then drew his own blade and headed towards the nearest battle to him. Anthony Dimmond, Will recalled, a man he hardly knew. He looked up at Will with relief as he fought off the claws of the shadow-beast that attacked him.

Will gave him a wide, evil grin, and Anthony faltered. Will’s blade slashed through his neck before he could scream, his blood spraying out over Will’s face, covering him in it, raining down upon the snow. The shadow that had been fighting him paid Will no mind and ran to attack the next-closest human. Will followed swiftly behind it.

As the battle wore on, Will fought against the humans, slashing throats and feeling their blood pour over him. He snapped the neck of the town schoolteacher and immediately felt disappointed at the lack of blood; so then he slashed out with his knife, cutting the man’s throat just to feel the red delicacy pour over his fingers as he let the corpse drop to the ground.

Will was careful to attack the people only on the fringes, so his betrayal would remain unnoticed by the rest, to continue giving him the advantage of appearing to be on their side. He killed four, then five, resisting the urge to pause and drink their blood, though his tongue lapped up what happened to fall on his lips. 

Now and then a human would reach the Wendigo and try to attack it. It easily defended itself, slashing its long claws through their bodies, dismembering chunks of torsos and limbs to fly in different directions, the trails of blood turning the snow beneath its feet into a pool of dark red. Will tried his best not to be distracted, reminding himself of Hannibal’s words, that this was a _small_ threat. He concentrated on eliminating as many of the humans as he could, slicing the throats of those who had been his neighbors, who he’d grown up with, and for the most part, had never liked.

Despite his help, the humans won the second round as well. The shadow-beasts were all gone, dissipated into the air like smoke, with four humans remaining in addition to Pazzi. Two were alive because Will couldn’t kill them. His eyes darted to Alana and she nodded her head towards the Wendigo, indicating it was time to attack it. He nodded back, and she turned her head away, trusting him. She was covered in blood herself, though he assumed most of it was hers from the slashes on her arms and face. 

And there was also Jack. Will had avoided him entirely, staying as far from him as possible, not certain he could have beaten him in a battle, even with a surprise advantage. Will watched as they and two others approached the monster who he defended. Both Will and the Wendigo remained still, waiting for the opportune moment. Will wanted to tell it not to kill Alana. It looked over the heads of its enemies and met his eyes, and in them he felt kinship.

The humans were coordinated and attacked all at once. The Wendigo’s deafening screech echoed through the forest, knocking the snow from the branches above them onto the ground. It twisted its body to gain maximum force, and with great strength, swept a single arm in a circle through all of them at once.

Their bodies flew through the air in Will’s peripheral vision, a distraction he could hardly notice as his attention was glued the Wendigo’s back where he briefly saw it as it twisted. Along its back were ten long, deep, golden gouges that practically glowed from its skin. Marked. His eyes grew wide with understanding.

Alana landed near Will’s feet, and he heard the sound of cracking bone as her back hit a rock. She did not move. Jack slammed against the trunk of a tree and slumped into a sitting position, clutching at his neck where blood poured down his skin where the Wendigo had slashed him. Will didn’t care what happened to the other two. He heard their bodies land somewhere, but his eyes were focused solely on the beast, his entire expression frozen, his blood racing, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Will slowly walked towards the Wendigo and Pazzi, who still held the glowing stag-sword out, keeping its feet planted to the ground. Will’s eyes locked onto the glowing white orbs that belonged to the beast, and it stilled, its gaze burning into him. The world around them shrank and for a moment, the two of them were all there was.

“Hannibal.” Will said softly, his heart pounding faster in his chest, from emotion now instead of exertion. “You _are_ Hannibal.” he whispered, yet he knew the Wendigo heard him, as all the forest was its ears, the air itself belonged to it. 

“Will! Kill it, Will!” Jack’s voice echoed dimly in Will’s ears, as if he were underwater and far away. 

“Save us, Will!” Alana cried, which made his heart beat faster for a moment. She was still alive.

Will came up beside Pazzi and stopped walking forward. He stood, drenched from head to toe in the blood of his enemies, still dripping from his clothes onto the snow below him. His eyes hadn’t left Hannibal’s. He hardly cared to acknowledge the annoyance of a human that stood beside him.

“Don’t kill Alana.” Will said, and he saw, in the face of horror itself, acknowledgement. He shut his eyes, remembering the kindness that Bella had shown him; the mercy she’d given when he’d been separated from his lover, and knew he had to spare hers. He sighed.

“Or Jack.”

He heard a low, displeased growl come from the Wendigo’s throat, and a smile cracked at the corner of Will’s lips.

“Please.” he said, and he heard Hannibal purr, and in it, the phrase he so often uttered to Will: _I would do anything for you_.

“It can’t.” Pazzi said, his voice jarring into a conversation that wasn’t his. “It can’t move. It is bound by my magic. It can’t kill them, it can’t kill me.”

Will let the grin spread over his face, and watched the pleased expression on Hannibal as he did so.

“No.” he said, turning to face Pazzi. “But I can.”

Pazzi turned to look at him with confusion. He looked Will over, observing his blood-drenched form. Will extended his hand, slowly turning it until Pazzi could see his palm, seared with the shape of the enchanted handle he had held. Will waited for Pazzi to understand, and watched with satisfaction as his eyes grew wide with horror. He quickly started chanting something in a foreign tongue; but then Will’s hands snapped out and easily cracked his neck.

His body crumpled to the ground, the repulsive sword falling beside him. Will bent down to lift the sword into his hands. It burned his skin, the smoke rising to his nose with a disgusting smell. He ignored it and lifted his knee, cracking the sword in two.

The light that surrounded Hannibal’s feet faded. Will tossed the broken sword to the ground, and his lover moved forward, only a single step, to pause in front of him. Will stood, drenched in blood, and tipped his head up as Hannibal lowered his maw, his entire mouth opening wide enough to swallow him whole. Instead a tongue curled out, the barest tip of it caressing over Will’s lips, and he kissed back, pulling it into his mouth, groaning as it licked over his tongue and into his mouth.

“Hannibal.” he whispered. A long, sharp claw rose up to caress his cheek, tracing over the marks it once had made on Will’s face and forehead. He heard a soft, gentle purr, and groaned up into the tongue that kissed him, wandering across his face and neck to lap at the blood that coated his skin.

Hannibal’s long arms reached for him and pulled him close. Will felt the tendrils then, emerging from Hannibal’s tongue to wrap around him, felt the delicious hum as they soaked up the blood that covered him. Then the mouth opened wider, lowering around him as the tendrils wrapped around his body. Will tipped his head back in surrender, an expression of awe and affection on his face as he looked into the eyes of his lover.

Jack’s screams of terror and desperation were drowned out as he was swallowed. Will was surrounded by darkness and warmth, engulfed in Hannibal’s body, and he smiled as he had never felt so whole or safe in his life.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. I'm so sorry for missing posting last week. My life is really, really challenging right now. But during these difficult times, we all need fanfiction to keep us going. I hope you enjoy this week's chapter!

Will was blind in the darkness, though the last thing he felt was fear. He heard creaking with each motion the Wendigo made, like the sound of a thousand branches both growing and breaking at once. There was a feeling of walking, or, more accurately, of being carried, though he had a difficult time telling which way was up, or for how long he’d been inside the blackness. 

It might have been minutes or it might have been hours before he felt stones press up to his shoulder, then his hip, then his side. The darkness began to melt away. It pulled back like a slick, oily blanket, leaving Will lying on his side on the ground, all the blood that had covered him gone, absorbed into the black spirit that was, somehow, Hannibal.

He rolled into a sitting position and took in his surroundings. Another bramble shelter was growing up around them, though this one was much larger and more sturdy, more fitting of the word ‘lair’, which made Will laugh softly to himself. Walls of branches several feet wide rose up from the ground, intertwining with each other, smaller branches poking out now and then, with thick, sharp thorns pricking out from every wall. The growing branches surrounded them on every side but one, leaving an arch for an opening as they rose high above where the bottoms of tree limbs should begin, then twisted together to close off the sky.

Will turned to face the Wendigo, still monstrous and enormous, its face no less terrifying, even now. Will set his jaw and steeled himself to look into its glowing white eyes.

“Hannibal.” he said, and the Wendigo took a step forward. One step brought it from ten feet away to inches from Will, and it rested on its haunches, lifting up an unnaturally long claw to stroke gently across his face. It stroked through his hair, the feel of it sending tingles along his face and scalp wherever it touched.

“Yes.” it said, the low gravelly voice of the Wendigo rumbling through to Will’s bones.

Will closed his eyes and let it stroke him, his skin burning pleasantly as it added more claws to the stroking, until it was petting Will, its claws raking through his hair, and he found himself leaning into its touch.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Will asked softly, his eyes half-closed with affection. 

“Fear.” it replied. Will almost laughed.

“ _You_? Of what?” he said.

A claw quickly hooked under Will’s chin and lifted his face up to look at him. Another touched its sharp point to Will’s forehead, and a flash of blinding yellow light obscured his vision. He could no longer see the Wendigo, or the bramble cave, or the forest beyond. Instead he saw a house, with himself sitting on a bed within it, his face covered in deep injuries and dried blood. Hannibal was sitting in a chair across from him, and Will was speaking.

“I'm not going to miss you. I'm not going to find you. I'm not going to look for you. I don't want to know where you are or what you do. I don't want to think about you anymore.”

At the words seemingly coming from his own lips, Will’s heart broke. When he saw the pain in Hannibal’s eyes, it shattered. 

“No.” he said, hearing his voice from outside the vision, warbly and distant. “I would never. I belong with you. I love you.” he said. 

He heard the Wendigo’s voice rumble softly, the sound flowing over his ears like water crashing against rocks. There was another flash, and Will was watching the battle they had just fought; only this time, he saw it from Hannibal’s point of view.

He watched himself, from the Wendigo’s perspective, viciously slashing the throats of his fellow villagers. The ecstasy on his face as their blood poured over him was unmistakable. His delight in the taste of their blood on his lips was undeniable. His eyes rose to meet Hannibal’s, and he felt himself fall even further in love.

“Yes.” Will said. “You were right. I enjoy killing them.”

The vision was gone and Will was yanked by what felt like a hundred limbs into a tight embrace against the blackness of the Wendigo. He couldn’t quite call it skin, because beneath his fingertips and where his cheek pressed he could feel it shifting, could feel it move, almost like it was liquid, like thick mud that was nearly solid but wasn’t quite. Tendrils combed through his hair and claws stroked over his face, as appendages that he had no better name for wrapped around his body, pulling him in close. The feeling was altogether strange and lovely.

“Do you accept me, Will Graham?” it purred, and this time, Will didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.” he said. “All of you.”

His chin was tipped up and he was being kissed, though nothing that resembled lips could be found. The feeling was the same, and he kissed back, allowing the blackness to enter his mouth, exploring back with his tongue, letting his body be caressed by a being that never seemed to be the same shape twice.

The lips, if that was what they were, pulled away, and the Wendigo melted to the ground, collapsing with a thud that was the most ungraceful motion Will had ever observed from it. Its multitude of arms pulled back, becoming only two, and that was when Will saw the glowing amber slash across the side of its abdomen.

“You’re hurt.” Will said with concern, darting forward with his hands outstretched towards the wound. He stopped short of touching it, knowing from years of helping injured dogs that even the most devoted creature would snap if it was in pain. He watched the wound trying to heal, the edges of it stitching closer together, the darkness swallowing up the amber glow, only to spread open again from Pazzi’s magic.

“How do I…how do I help?” Will asked, his eyebrows knitting together in worry. 

“Medicine. In my house.” the Wendigo said. “I cannot…” it tried to stand again and faltered, falling with its back to the thorns, though they didn’t seem to bother it. Will rose to his feet and nodded quickly. He turned to leave, but froze when he heard a high-pitched, animalistic snarl from outside their shelter, much more savage than the Wendigo, if that was even possible.

Will turned to face the Wendigo with wide eyes.

“Enemy.” it said simply. “Knows I am weak.”

Will felt his blood grow cold as he listened to the snarling, growling thing march its way _over_ the bramble shelter, sharp, powerful claws poking through the branches, making bits of them rain down onto Will’s head. The sounds grew closer to the entrance until they stopped. A form dropped from above the arch to land on its haunches on the ground, a man-shaped thing, on all fours. It looked nothing like the Wendigo at all; it had _form_ , solid bone and flesh, bits of fur stuck to its skin, though much of it was naked, showing off its frighteningly powerful muscles that quivered beneath its flesh. It had the eyes and nose of a man, but from its mouth descended two enormous fangs, each a foot long, the ends of which glistened with drool to emphasize their sharpness.

It was much less formidable than the Wendigo, but there was still no doubt that this thing qualified as a monster.

“Randall.” the Wendigo said, its voice weaker than usual, but still seeming to come from every direction, echoing off the trees and coming from them as well. 

“Hannibal.” the monster snarled. His voice was higher pitched and sounded vaguely human-like in a way that prickled the hairs on Will’s skin. He also had an actual mouth, which moved like a mouth should when he spoke. It flashed its eyes, its _very_ human eyes, to look at Will. “Will Graham.” he said.

Will swallowed thickly.

“You know my name.” he said. Randall snorted.

“We all know _your_ name. You don’t catch the fancy of the likes of Hannibal and think you will go unnoticed in the spirit world, do you?”

Will felt a deep chill run down his spine and spread out through his limbs to his fingers. 

“What do you want?” Will asked, though that seemed a stupid question.

“Why, you, of course.” Randall said, cocking his head to the side, as if he’d thought that was obvious. “And to kill Hannibal.”

He pulled back on his haunches to get ready to spring. At the idea that Hannibal would be hurt, Will snarled and bared his teeth. He flung his arms open wide and let his claws extend from the tips of his fingers, and when Randall sprung, he was ready. 

He threw up his hands and plunged his claws into Randall’s shoulders. He howled from the pain, and Will’s arms grew in strength, able to hold him back even as powerful as he was. Will snarled, his voice deep and gravelly now, and dove his teeth forward to tear a chunk of flesh from Randall’s face.

His blood tasted satisfying, but was not delicious in the way human blood tasted. Rather than swallow it, Will spat out the chunk he’d torn away, the flesh landing in the dirt with a wet, smacking sound. Randall snarled and Will answered him, and they attacked each other, all teeth and claws, each slashing at the other, trying to mar their enemy’s face. Will felt his hind legs grow in length and power, his muscles pushing until he overpowered Randall and his eyes widened in fear. He took a step back and Will fell forward, narrowly missing the slash of Randall’s fangs as he attempted to bring them down through Will’s back.

They circled each other on all fours, until Randall was closer to Hannibal than Will was, and he pounced toward the Wendigo.

He never got anywhere near him. Will lashed out at Randall’s ankles with his claws and tore him to the ground, forcing him to land with his face in the dirt. Will snarled, the instinct to protect his lover rising like fire in his blood. He yanked Randall onto his back and beat against his face with his fists, his claws slashing his skin, ignoring the pain as Randall’s rear claws reached up and impaled themselves into his thighs. Will snarled and attacked until Randall was a bloody, unrecognizable mess, and with a final twist of the neck, he fell limp beneath him. Will tipped his head up to the ceiling and howled from his victory, the golden light of a successful kill shining through every pore of his being. He left the corpse of his enemy in the dirt and walked on all fours towards his lover, his eyes boring into the white light that peered out from Hannibal’s face with awe and affection.

Hannibal’s pitch black fingers reached up to stroke down Will’s blood-spattered cheek. 

“Beautiful.” he said, and they were kissing, Will’s tongue now as long as the Wendigo’s, diving deep into its throat, licking it from the inside, tasting him, being within him.

Will felt himself shivering and retracted his kiss to look down and find himself once again a man. His watched his wounds heal, his eyes growing wide as the slashes shrank and vanished, leaving the tears in his clothes as the only evidence he’d ever been hurt, the only wounds remaining on him being the burns on his palms from the enchanted knife hilt and Pazzi’s sword. He clasped his arms over each other, his entire body trembling as he lay in the Wendigo’s lap, its fingers gently stroking through his hair.

“What…” he began, squeezing his eyes closed, a thousand emotions rampaging through him. “What’s happening to me?”

“You are becoming.” the Wendigo whispered, the branches of the trees creaking as it spoke, its claws gently stroking over Will’s body as he lay curled upon its legs. “You have begun to reveal your true nature.”

“ _Begun_?” Will cried, jerking his head around to stare at Randall’s body, and found in its place only a heap of mauled flesh. Bones were torn from it and flung to the far reaches of the bramble cave, chunks of flesh scattered in the dirt beneath. He didn’t remember getting that vicious. 

“Yes, my love.” the Wendigo said. “Begun.”

Will’s eyes rose to meet the white glowing orbs that were the Wendigo’s and he tried to feel its same level of joy, but could not.

“It’s alright. It will come fully when you are ready, and not before.”

Will tried to stop the raging tremors that plagued his body to no avail.

“Okay.” he said, sounding entirely unconvinced.

“For now, I remain vulnerable. While watching you defend me was a great pleasure,” the Wendigo said, causing a hot blush to rise to Will’s cheeks, “I would prefer to not be so injured. Please, free my other body, and bring me to my house.”

Will nodded, knowing that there was still more he didn’t understand than he did. For one thing, the more time he spent here, in the Wendigo’s lap, the more its words started to sound like _Hannibal_. But that didn’t matter at the moment; the course of action he needed to take was clear.

He rose to his feet, doing his best to stop the tremors that wracked his body, though they seemed to be less violent than they had been a moment ago.

“I’ll…see you at the jailhouse.” Will said, pressing one last kiss to the Wendigo’s face, where he thought its mouth might be. He stepped out of the bramble cave and into the snow, immediately feeling the frozen air of winter as a breeze blasted against his skin. The snow blew thickly in the air and while he didn’t feel cold at all, he realized he had no idea where he was. He could hardly see for the falling snow to try to get his bearings. He didn’t have to worry long about whether he would be able to find the village, however. He heard the sure clip-clop of hooves behind him and turned to see a Ravenstag, its form becoming obscured by the ever-heavier falling snow. Will walked up to it until he was within touching distance.

“Are you going to guide me back?” he asked, and it nodded with a snort. Its knees buckled and the great beast slowly lowered itself to lie on the ground, placing even its chin onto the icy snow, to make itself very plain.

“I couldn’t, I…”

It snorted again, and Will dared not argue further. He walked up to it and grabbed a tight wad of its fur between his fingers, swinging a leg over as high as he could, having difficulty mounting it even as it lay, it was so enormous.

It rose, and Will saw the snowy forest from another perspective, much higher up than a lowly human’s, and knew he belonged here. His misgivings melted away as the stag walked, feeling perfectly comfortable, even as snowflakes fell and remained frozen on his skin, not melting at all.

Will was no longer fully human, and all the spirits knew it, as Randall had so blatantly pointed out. While he still felt the same awe for the Ravenstag that he had that first night, he could feel its own respect for him in return: mate of Hannibal, who was king of this forest, and not to be challenged.

Will watched the forest as the Ravenstag walked through it at a leisurely pace. At times he felt like telling it to go faster, but he had a feeling that it knew the level of danger Hannibal was in was minimal, or else it would run. It was still much faster than a horse, its stride much longer because of its height, and Will often had to duck under branches that he wouldn’t normally consider to be low.

Will smelled the blood before he saw it. They came to the clearing where the battle had been fought, the freshly falling snow having covered up most of the red blood that had splashed the ground, along with the bodies of the people Will and Hannibal’s army had slain. The trunks of the trees were still plenty red, however, and two of the bodies did not have snow piling on top of them, because they were still alive.

“Stop.” Will said, and the Ravenstag obeyed. “We’re carrying Jack and Alana back to the village.”

With a simple nod of its head, the stag walked toward where they lay. It lowered itself to the ground and Will dismounted, rushing to Alana’s side. Her eyes were closed and she hadn’t moved her position at all from where he’d last seen her, confirming his suspicion that her back was broken. He considered for a moment snapping her neck in mercy; a life lived without being able to move even her fingers seemed too horrible to let her bear. Then he shook the thought away. Hannibal would be able to heal her. He had seen his magic do much more powerful things than that.

Will gently lifted Alana from the snow, glad that a broken back meant she would feel no pain. He draped her stomach over the Ravenstag’s broad, furred back, then walked over to Jack, who sat unconscious leaning against a tree.

A river of dried blood spread from the wound in his neck to coat the entire right side of his body. His hand was still clasping the wound, the drying blood having kept it there. The bleeding had stopped, and yet Jack was still alive, and Will turned to the stag, immediately knowing it had licked him there, saving his life.

“Thank you.” he whispered. He received a loud snort in return.

Will lifted Jack’s body, which was far easier for him than it should have been, given how muscular the man was. He draped him across the Ravenstag beside Alana, and held them in place while the beast rose to its feet, its legs the height of Will, its chest rising to above his head.

They walked together the short distance back to the village, Will keeping his hand on the stag’s shoulder, more for comfort than any other reason. He walked them down the main road, doors and windows slamming shut at the sight of the frightful beast and Will drenched in blood, walking beside it, heading to the jailhouse.

Here he was met with a fretful and worried crowd, their fears of the fate of their loved ones overriding their fears of the stag as they emerged from village hall with wringing hands and anxious faces. Will’s eyes fell to Bella, who no doubt had been keeping watch over those who waited.

“He’s alive.” Will replied. He watched hope swell over her features and she ran towards her husband, her hands gently cupping the sides of his face.

Jack stirred, and the crowd murmured and whispered.

“What about the monster, Will? Is it destroyed?” Bella asked.

“Yes.” came Jack’s voice, far too strong for a man in his condition, and murmurs of relief came from the people who crowded in the street. Jack stirred, shifting just enough to tilt his head to the side, where he could catch Bella with one eye.

“Will killed it.” he said, and then began to cough, blood pouring from his mouth.

The relief in the crowd was loud, and then people began asking about their loved ones.

“We are the only three who survived.” Will replied. He turned his head to look up at the stag. “The Ravenstag saved us.”

It was easy to lie, when he knew that lie would serve his and Hannibal’s purposes. The village thinking the Wendigo was dead was certainly beneficial for them, at least at the moment.

He heard loud sobs from those who had just learned the ones they loved had perished. Then from the crowd burst forth Margot, her hands outstretched towards Alana’s face, her fingers stroking lovingly through her hair.

“What’s wrong with her, Will?”

“Not sure.” he said. “But she’s breathing.” 

Margot pressed her cheek to the side of Alana’s face and felt her warmth, then began to sob.

Will turned to Bella.

“Dr. Lecter can probably save them.” he said. “If you would release him from prison…”

“Of course.” Bella said, pulling away from Jack and rushing towards the jailhouse, the key out of her pocket instantly. Will left the stag and the crowd and followed her, waiting outside as he heard the creak of the metal gate open, and then Hannibal was before him, standing in the street, his usual passive face blooming into a smile when he saw Will.

He pulled him into his arms and Will returned the embrace, their lips meeting with eager kisses, Hannibal’s breath warm and alive and as real as any man’s. 

“There’s still so much I don’t understand.” he whispered softly. Hannibal’s fingers reached up to stroke his cheek, and he looked up into brown eyes full of love and affection.

“You will, very shortly. We have much to discuss.” Hannibal said. “But first, I believe there are two lives I promised you I would save.”

Hannibal reached down and linked his fingers between Will’s, and together the two of them led the Ravenstag down the street, Bella and Margot following them.

They reached Hannibal’s house and he turned.

“First I must make preparations.” he said. “Will, come help me. The rest of you stay out here, just for a moment.”

The two worried faces nodded unquestioningly, and Hannibal and Will disappeared behind the closed door.

“Are you hurt?” Will whispered, his eyes darting down to Hannibal’s side.

“Yes.” he replied, reaching up to undo the buttons on his shirt. He removed it, and Will saw the gash in his side, the same amber glow that refused to heal on the Wendigo. Will watched Hannibal’s skin attempting to grow back, yet unable to as the amber slash repulsed the new flesh away. 

“There is a bottle in my bedroom.” Hannibal said, his voice wavering now as he was willing to show his weakness in front of Will. He faltered in his stance, and grabbed onto the patient table for balance. “It contains Ravenstag blood. I must drink it.”

Will nodded and rushed into Hannibal’s room. He hurried to the dresser and began yanking open drawers, finding several bottles all sealed with corks. Most contained what looked like regular medicine, but then he lifted one that unmistakably contained the red, viscous liquid of blood. 

He rushed back to Hannibal and handed it to him. He saw the gratefulness in Hannibal’s eyes when he gave it to him and popped open the cork. 

Will could smell it immediately. The scent was powerful; not delicious like human blood, nor tangy like Randall’s. This was something else. This was strong magic.

Hannibal brought it to his lips and took a single sip. He then doubled forward and gasped with pain, his hand that held the bottle shaking violently. Will took it from his fingers and re-corked it, realizing just how precious the contents were. He set it carefully on a side table and then put his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders, holding him while he squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

Will watched the glow fade from the wound, and then saw it stitch together easily, the way his own wounds had done after his fight with Randall. The flesh grew back until it formed an angry pink scar, and Hannibal rose to his feet. He ran his fingers over it, inspecting it, then nodded with satisfaction.

“Thank you, my love.” he said. He reached under Will’s chin and tipped his face up for a long, deep, loving kiss, which Will leaned into gratefully, his body easily melting to Hannibal’s, his arms rising to wrap around his neck.

Hannibal turned and picked up the bottle, holding it up to the light from the window.

“A most precious and potent magic, the blood of a Ravenstag.” Hannibal said. “For its magic to remain healing, it must be freely given, which is quite a rare gift indeed. If it is taken, it becomes instead a most deadly poison.” Hannibal said, gesturing to the scar on his side, a reminder that Pazzi had taken the rack of a Ravenstag without its permission.

“Now take a drop for yourself, Will.” Hannibal said. Will quirked up an eyebrow in question. He wasn’t that hurt. In fact he’d watched all of the injuries he’d sustained from his battle heal before his eyes, except for…

Hannibal grabbed his wrist and held his palm up in the light. The burn-marks from where he’d touched the enchanted knife’s hilt and the wooden Ravenstag sword remained on his palms.

“These will never heal on their own.” Hannibal said. “Now drink. Just the smallest drop.”

Will nodded, showing that he understood. He uncorked the bottle and brought it to his lips, taking the smallest sip he was capable of. His palms sizzled and he lost his grip on the bottle, only to find it safely taken into Hannibal’s hands. He raised his palms up in front of his face and watched with wide eyes as the burn marks from the enchanted weapons faded, leaving behind new skin, so healed that even his hard-earned callouses from years of hunting were gone.

“Much better.” Hannibal said, stepping forward to brush a strand of hair from Will’s eyes. “No one should have their mark upon you but me.”

His kiss was sweet and passionate, and Will found himself melting into it, leaning into Hannibal’s body, having gone more than a day without his touch and missing him more than he knew he should have.

“Now help me prepare medicine using a few drops.” Hannibal said. “For our friends.”

Will followed Hannibal’s instructions, filling a new medicine bottle nearly to the top with water, then carried it over to him. He watched as Hannibal poured a few drops of Ravenstag blood into it, then corked it and shook. At once, Will understood what sort of medicine Hannibal had been using all this time. It wasn’t medicine at all. It was magic.

Once they had prepared the medicine, Hannibal opened the door and Will helped carry the patients inside.

Hannibal made quite a show of doctoring. He had Will lay Alana and Jack out on his two examination tables, then hurriedly went to work stitching Jack’s neck up, ensuring that there would be a scar there, so no one would realize he’d used magic to heal Jack. He expertly wiped the blood away with a cloth and gave Jack a sip of the medicine they had prepared. Will watched Jack’s wound and saw nothing happen at all. Mixing the blood with water had weakened it enough to make Jack’s healing seem natural.

Then there was Alana.

“Her back is broken.” Hannibal said. Margot’s hand flew to her mouth and tears slipped down her face. She buried her face in Bella’s shoulder, who comforted her and looked at Hannibal expectantly.

“That doesn’t mean it cannot be repaired.” Hannibal said. Margot and Bella both turned to stare at him with desperate hope.

“I have repaired a back or two in the past.” Hannibal said. “But I will have to perform surgery, to cut her open and re-align it. Then she will have to rest, for a long time.”

Margot nodded fervently, and Hannibal nodded. 

“I shall get my tools, then.” he said. “Please remove her blouse and set her on her stomach.” he directed.

The surgery was hideous and grueling. Will watched as Hannibal deftly sliced Alana’s back open and dove his hands in, feeling along her spine until he found the place where it was misaligned. He then asked for an eyedropper containing the “more potent” medicine, which Will brought to him from the bedroom.

“My hands are slippery from the blood, Will. You will have to place the medicine.”

Will swallowed with nervousness.

“It is alright. Just let the drops fall, right here. See where the crack is?”

Will did indeed see. It was much more than a crack, though Margot and Bella would not be able to tell from the distance at which they stood. Several of her vertebrae were shattered, cracks splintering across the bone, chunks of some of them lodged in her spinal cord.

Will’s eyes met Hannibal’s and he nodded. He looked down at the mess that was Alana’s back and let the drops of Ravenstag blood fall.

The moment they touched her, Will watched the cracks heal. He heard the crackling of the bones as they grew back together, then shifted back into place, where they belonged. He watched her spine straighten, and Will knew she was instantly healed.

The reason she would have to lay on her back for a few weeks would be to recover from the surgery—which had been entirely unnecessary, but for giving Hannibal a cover, to make her healing seem believable and realistic.

Will held nothing but awe for the depth with which Hannibal was able to manipulate the humans around him into believing whatever he wanted them to believe.

Hannibal then spent another hour sewing Alana back up, and finally he was finished. He feigned exhaustion and collapsed into an armchair the moment he’d washed his hands. The wives of his patients hovered over them with worry, until finally they opened their eyes: first Jack, and a half an hour later, Alana.

“Will saved us.” Jack said, reaching up a palm to stroke over Bella’s cheek. “The Wendigo struck Pazzi down, and Will picked up the sword and slashed it. It vanished, disappeared like smoke.” he said. “It’s gone.”

Bella gave a laugh of relief, her fingers stroking across Jack’s face as she planted kiss after kiss to his cheeks and forehead. When Alana awoke she recounted a similar story, confessing that she had seen nothing, but heard exactly what Jack described. She couldn’t get many more words than that out as Margot peppered her lips with grateful kisses, and Will turned to Hannibal with warmth in his heart and gratefulness on his face.

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter.” he said, and all the people in the room agreed with him, all showering their thanks to Hannibal.

“Now it is time for our patients to get home and rest.” Hannibal said. He turned to Margot. “Margot, would you kindly send for two of your carriages, to bring our patients home? I’m certain they would rather recover in their own beds, as opposed to here.”

Not an hour after Margot left the carriages came, and Hannibal gave clear directions to the servants on how the patients were to be moved, and how they were to be settled in their beds once they returned home. Bella and Margot showered him with hugs and kisses, and Will as well, and Margot promised adequate payment would be coming his way shortly in the future. Then they were gone, and Hannibal turned to his lover with eyes that burned with passion and affection.

“You brilliant, beautiful creature.” Hannibal said, his voice low and gravelly, resembling the Wendigo’s just a bit. “I would ravage you now, if I was not so famished.”

A hot, pleasant blush rose to Will’s cheeks.

“I’m hungry myself.” he said. “There is still a bit of Mason left out in your slaughtering shed.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “Why don’t you wash up and change into something more decent, while I prepare us dinner.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this chapter is 0% plot I hope you weren't looking for any B)  
> Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends!

Will sat at the table, drumming his fingers on it while he watched Hannibal work in the kitchen. He watched Hannibal’s back flex, his arms tighten, his fingers knead the dough of whatever he was making, and Will was transfixed. Having no distractions now, no reason to look away, he allowed himself to gaze unabashedly at the creature he had fallen in love with so deeply.

“You’re staring.” Hannibal said, tossing the frying pan, the chopped vegetables and cubed meat flying into the air to land on their flipped side. 

“I like what I’m looking at.” he said, bringing the glass of wine Hannibal had poured to his lips. It was red, and he knew now that there was more than fermented grape juice in it. Perhaps that was what made it taste so delicious. Or perhaps Hannibal was just an incredible chef.

“Where is your other…self?” Will said, asking the first of a thousand questions that now, he knew, he would be given answers to.

“In the Southern Forest, where I belong.” Hannibal said. 

“Are you…there, now?” Will asked, frowning, his eyebrows scrunching together in thought.

“Yes.” Hannibal said. “I am always there, and always here.”

Will gave a short laugh.

“You see two things at once?”

Hannibal nodded, picking up a bottle of oil to pour it into the pan, flames rising up a few feet as he shook the handle, appearing to be giving his full concentration to the task before him.

“Yes. And hear, and feel, and smell, and taste.” he said, licking his lips at that last one. His eyes rose to meet Will’s and he felt his cheeks flush.

“How can you concentrate, like that?”

Hannibal gave him a smile, which was wide and full of amusement.

“I am not a man.” he said. He lifted the pan and started plating the meal onto two dishes, and Will let him work, waiting until Hannibal was seated at the table across from him, the smell of the food making Will’s mouth water and stomach grumble.

“Being in two places at once makes sense to me.” Hannibal said. “This is the way of my kind. We divide our bodies in our youth. One to keep the heart, the other to keep the mind.” he said, uncorking the bottle of wine to refill his glass, offering some to Will. He accepted and took another sip, closing his eyes as he let the flavor linger on his tongue.

They paused in their conversation to eat. Will moaned softly as the flavor filled his mouth. He savored it, chewing slowly, swallowing only when his hunger overcame him.

“Delicious, as always.” he said.

“Thank you.” Hannibal replied. “I greatly enjoy cooking, and the fruits of those labors, in this body.”

Will gave a short laugh and a smile spread on his lips as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.”

Hannibal set his wine glass on the table and folded his hands in front of him, foregoing his food for the moment to explain.

“This body has closer access to my mind. In it, I can hold complicated thoughts: plan, arrange, manipulate, calculate, learn. I enjoy things that entertain the mind: the fine arts, developing culinary skills, performing surgery, music. Intellectual conversation.”

He lifted his eyes to meet Will’s, who found himself blushing and letting his lashes fall to the table.

“My other body has closer access to my emotions. It is raw, wild, savage. It is driven by rage, fear, love, passion.” Hannibal said, reaching his hand across the table to stroke his fingers over Will’s knuckles. “I do not normally feel strong emotions in this body.” he said. “Just as I do not normally have complex thoughts in the other. But you, Will.”

Hannibal rose and walked to stand beside Will. He pulled him to his feet and cupped his cheek with his palm, his eyes burning into Will’s with depth, with affection, with _need_.

“When I first saw you, it was with this body.” he said. “And I felt the reverberations of you to the depths of my heart.”

Will stared into Hannibal’s deep eyes, not even realizing he’d been tilting his head into a kiss until their lips touched. He groaned into the warmth of Hannibal’s lips, which moved eagerly, hungrily over his. Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his back and pulled him close. Will pressed their bodies together, heat and desire rising up to bloom in his chest.

“You are a glorious hunter, Will, and you deserve to have your power and skill unleashed, vibrant and free in the world.”

Will groaned into the next deep kiss that Hannibal pressed to his lips. He rolled his hips against Hannibal’s, pressing his erection against him.

“I’ve had enough dinner, Dr. Lecter.” Will whispered from under half-lidded eyes. “Make love to me.”

Hannibal’s arms around his back were powerful. He pushed Will backward towards the bedroom, and he eagerly let him, the two of them stumbling in the darkness towards the bed, since the fire wasn’t lit. Hannibal pushed Will down onto his back, then lifted a hand and with the flick of his wrist, the fireplace sprang to life.

Will raised an eyebrow.

“You sure know how to impress a man.” he said. Hannibal returned his smile, then returned his lips to Will’s face, kissing across his cheek, along his jaw, down his neck. His fingers roamed down his shirt on Will’s body, undoing the buttons with graceful haste. He yanked the cloth back roughly, dragging his lips down Will’s bare chest, flicking his tongue out between his lips with every kiss to taste.

Will worked as eagerly to removed Hannibal’s shirt, until both garments were tossed to the floor. Hannibal’s hands insatiably caressed over Will’s body, stroking his chest, his abdomen, his sides. Will’s stomach fluttered and his skin prickled with heat, the blush rising when Hannibal’s hands came to his pants and undid them quickly. 

“Couldn’t you just magic my clothes away?” Will said, and Hannibal gave him a short chuckle.

He waited for Will’s eyes to meet his before slowly sliding his pants down in a teasing fashion, revealing his cock, proud and erect.

“Now where would the fun be in that?” he said, walking towards Will with dark eyes.

He pushed Will to the bed and covered him with his naked body, the warmth of his stomach pushing against Will’s skin, the hairs of his chest tickling him, the length of his cock pressed against his bare thigh, sending sparks up his nerves.

Hannibal dove his lips in deep to the crook of Will’s neck. He tipped his head back and groaned, his hands wrapping around Hannibal’s back to pull him close. His cock brushed against Hannibal’s and Will moaned, bucking his hips up to grind against him, his body rolling to move them together.

“Mmmm, what do you want, Will?” Hannibal asked, teasing his lips up Will’s neck to brush against his ear.

“Fuck me. Take me.” he breathed, the blush in his cheeks blooming up to his ears. “Make me yours.”

Hannibal growled, the sound low and rumbling, and Will was fairly certain that a breeze kicked up outside the window to rattle the trees in accordance.

Hannibal rose up onto his knees, his hips pressing down over Will’s thighs, their cocks red and swollen beside each other. He glanced down at Will’s flushed skin, his half-lidded eyes, his neck swelling with purple bruises from Hannibal’s work, and the wind outside blew harder.

Will gave him a seductive smile.

“Is that you, out there?” he purred. Hannibal only licked his lips and slid himself back. His palms caressed over Will’s hips, his thighs, his pelvis, until his fingertips brushed his erection. Will groaned and Hannibal clasped him, pulling in long, slow strokes. Will whimpered and shut his eyes, his fingers unable to reach Hannibal so they closed and opened against his empty palms. His hips rocked, the pleasure spreading up his cock so much of a distraction that he barely felt Hannibal’s other hand caressing down his leg, slipping his palm under Will’s knee.

He pushed, bending it up, lifting it until Will’s foot was beside Hannibal’s knee. Will slit his eyes open and stared at Hannibal’s face through the haze of pleasure that bloomed through him, and bent his other knee up of his own accord. Hannibal’s free hand then slid up his thigh, stroking gently but with purpose, until his palm was rubbing over his ass, giving it little squeezes of appreciation.

“Stunning.” Hannibal said. He flicked his thumb over the head of Will’s cock and he cried out, tossing his head back, his chest heaving from how good he felt. The fingers of his other hand traced their way to between Will’s cheeks, stroking over his most intimate place, making Will jump from how sensitive it felt. Hannibal’s soft moan in reply sent jolts through Will’s blood. He glanced at Hannibal’s face, stunned at how reverent he looked, as if _Will_ were the magical creature in the room, and Hannibal was lucky enough to behold him.

Hannibal continued to stroke his fingers over Will’s anus, making pleasure bloom there and spread up into Will’s balls, until all of his skin was sensitive and tingling. He was rock-hard now, the head swollen and purple, and starting to drip precum. Hannibal then gently pulled his hands away, and Will whimpered.

“Patience, love.” Hannibal said. He rose and walked to the desk, opening the drawer where he kept the Ravenstag’s blood. He pulled out a bottle of oil and replaced himself back on the bed. Will watched him with clouded eyes as he poured the oil into his palms and rubbed them together, warming it. He started again at Will’s thighs, rubbing the oil into his skin, massaging him, feeling him. Soft moans escaped Will’s parted lips, his half-lidded eyes transfixed by Hannibal’s face, which could be described as nothing short of enamored. 

Hannibal poured more oil onto Will’s thighs, his slick palms glossing up to caress Will’s testicles. He jerked from the sensation, more sensitive than he knew it could feel, and Hannibal started to massage him there, gently rolling them between his fingers. Will melted into a puddle, surrendering to the warm pleasure that grew through him, all of him rendered speechless by the touch of Hannibal’s hands.

Hannibal lifted the bottle again and poured the oil over Will’s cock, letting it pool on his pelvis until it slicked down between his legs, coating him and making a mess of the bed. Their eyes met, and Hannibal gave him a soft, flirtatious smile, before returning his hands to Will’s flesh. He spread an open palm over Will’s shaft and pushed it down against his stomach, rubbing it slowly, letting the oil warm and soothe. Will’s hips bucked up into the touch without his permission, the teasing making him grow hard and needy, thick pants coming from between his lips.

Hannibal’s other hand slid down below his scrotum then, his fingers gliding to stroke over his sphincter, spreading the oil that had dripped there. He twisted his hand so his palm was up and rested the tip of his middle finger, gently pushing, spreading Will open. It didn’t burn as much as Will expected it to; the oil made Hannibal’s finger slip in as if it belonged there. He kept his strokes on Will’s cock even and firm, their eyes still locked together as Will allowed Hannibal into his body.

Hannibal started to move his finger in time with his strokes on Will’s erection. Will’s hips returned to rocking, the two of them moving together, the heat from all he was feeling drowning Will’s brain so he could hardly think, and it was heaven. His eyes kept fluttering closed, and he kept trying to open them, caught between wanting to see Hannibal’s face and wanting to shut off his sight to get lost in sensation alone.

Hannibal moved his finger to the side, pushing Will open, moving it in slow circles until Will felt a second finger poised to enter him. He groaned when it slid in, the constant teasing on his cock going straight to his brain, his entire body flushed from ears to knees. He bucked his hips and pushed himself down onto Hannibal’s hand, moaning with want, fucking himself slowly on Hannibal’s fingers. Hannibal crooked his fingers and intensity alighted up Will’s spine. He arched his back and shuddered, a soft mewl escaping him. His toes tingled. His ears burned.

“Hannibal.” he breathed, spreading his legs, bending his knees further, offering himself, open and pliant.

Hannibal rose onto his knees, towering over Will, his hot, erect cock brushing against Will’s inner thigh, making him shudder. He pushed it up to where his fingers disappeared into Will’s body, and Will felt the tip of his head press against him, warm and wet. 

“Please.” Will whispered, forcing his eyes open to gaze at Hannibal’s face. On it he saw deep affection and reverence.

“Will.” Hannibal breathed, and that was all. Spreading the fingers that he had in Will, he used them to guide the crown of his cock inside. He slid his fingers out while he pushed in, trading one for the other, and Will felt his skin stretch. He panted and whimpered, eyes squeezing shut at how unexpectedly full he felt. Hannibal moved slowly, but didn’t stop, pressing himself in further, until the ridge behind the head was swallowed by Will’s body. 

He stilled, and stroked Will’s thighs with his fingers, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Will’s knee. 

“You are absolutely gorgeous, like this.” Hannibal whispered, his eyes taking in the flushed heat of Will’s skin, the heaving pants of his chest, the sheen of sweat on his cheeks.

“I think I have the better view.” Will retorted, making a show of raking his eyes down Hannibal’s bare skin, tracing over the hairs of his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, the protruding veins in his forearms.

Hannibal gave him an affectionate smile, and placed another kiss to his knee.

He clasped both hands on Will’s hips and pushed himself in deeper. Will felt his body spread open to accommodate him, his flesh being pushed apart as he was filled with Hannibal. His breaths came faster, his throat fluttering as he breathed, Hannibal pushing in deeper, then deeper, until he had slid in his full length. Will felt the heat of Hannibal’s balls push against his ass, and he managed to tear his eyes open long enough to see thick desire on Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal pulled out a bit, then pushed back in, and Will felt himself re-spread. It hurt, but in a way that he knew would feel good in time, the pleasure there just under the surface, waiting to be freed. Hannibal continued pulling out a bit and then pushed back in, working up a slow rhythm, his palms pressing tightly to Will’s thighs, his abdominal muscles tensing as he worked. Will lifted his head then let it fall to the bed repeatedly, unsure of what to do with himself, unable to do much other than to feel. A groan escaped him, then another, as the pain faded and indeed left pleasure in its wake. 

“Hannibal.” he purred.

“Mmmm.” was the reply. Hannibal pulled back further and pushed in harder. Will moaned, a long, drawn-out sound of desire that turned into little stutters as Hannibal moved faster.

“Are you feeling pleasant, Will?” Hannibal asked, his voice husky and full of breath. Will opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow, giving Hannibal a smirk.

“What do you think?”

Hannibal returned his smirk, then thrust.

“Oh God!” Will cried, his head falling to the mattress, his body shuddering from the burst of pleasure it had just endured. “More!”

Hannibal obliged. He snapped his hips forward hard and fast, thrusting deep and hard into Will, his fingers clawing at his hips to pull his body close as he pounded into him. Will raised his ass, pushing back against him, his loud cries echoing off the walls in Hannibal’s bedroom. His hands scrabbled against the sheets and then found Hannibal’s wrists, which he clasped firmly between his fingers to pull himself closer against him.

Hannibal fucked hard into him, their flesh slapping together in rhythm, Will’s entire body jerking up the bed from each thrust only to be pulled back by Hannibal’s hands. He groaned every time Hannibal drove into him, spreading his legs wide, eagerly welcoming more.

“Yes, yes, yes!” was all Will could say, but from Hannibal’s enraptured face, it could have been the most eloquent words ever spoken. He was lost, his skin as flushed as Will’s, now, every one of his powerful muscles working to plunge as hard and deep as he could into his lover.

The bed rocked and the wind blew, the creaking of the branches outside loud and prominent. Hannibal put his entire body into his task, his shoulders flexing, the muscles tense in his back, arms, abdomen, thighs. On each pull out Will opened his eyes to catch glimpses of his primal, savage beauty. On each thrust in he cried out, his eyes closing as he desperately focused on the sensation between his legs. His curls plastered to his forehead with sweat, as Hannibal’s hair hung in disarrayed strands, all free from the neat combing that normally confined them.

Hannibal was relentless in his pace, never needing to pause to rest. Will’s eyes rolled back in his head and he was lost to the world, as blind as he’d been when he was inside Hannibal’s other body, desire building until it sang through his blood. Hannibal’s hand slid to clasp around his cock, and Will arched his back, driving his ass down onto Hannibal. Will’s erection swelled until it was purple and glistening, his mind drowning in desire and lust. He lasted another few seconds like that before he screamed, ecstasy spilling out of him, waves and waves pulsing through his every cell, making his nerves sing and shudder.

“Perfect.” Hannibal said, slamming his hips forward, thrusting into Will with a vicious, possessive growl, where he stayed, pouring his desire into Will with bared teeth and fiery eyes. Outside the wind howled, tearing at the branches of the trees, rattling the windows. In Hannibal’s face Will saw the beast that he was, and his heart fluttered with affection. He pulled on Hannibal’s wrists, pushing his ass closer to him, making it clear how very much he wanted Hannibal in him. 

Hannibal collapsed on top of Will, and he lifted his arms to wrap around his back as they both heaved. Blood smeared from his fingers onto Hannibal’s skin, and he glanced at Hannibal’s wrists to see the puncture wounds of claws that had held on with desperate tightness.

“Did I transform again?” Will asked, but the only response he got was a long, satisfied groan buried into his shoulder. Hannibal’s lips pressed to Will’s skin and kissed their way up his neck, where he paused to suck on the lobe of Will’s ear. 

“You greatly test my restraint.” Hannibal cooed, placing gentle, soft kisses around the shell of Will’s ear.

“That was restraint?” Will said, and he felt Hannibal’s smile press against his ear.

“Very much so. While it is true that you are becoming, you are not yet hatched. You are still a man, and therefore fragile. I must take care not to kill you with my passion.”

Despite having just orgasmed, Will felt his heart race at the statement. He swallowed thickly.

“Will I get to see it?” he whispered.

Hannibal lifted his face, his perfect hair falling in disheveled strands into his eyes, his cheeks still heavily flushed.

“See what?” he asked, and Will almost laughed at how lost for conversation Hannibal was.

“Your passion.”

A slow smile spread over Hannibal’s lips and he pressed a kiss to Will’s cheek.

“My darling, that is what I’ve been working towards since the day I met you.”

Will turned his face to meet Hannibal’s lips, and they kissed softly for a long moment, before Will started to feel sleep overtake him. They settled beside each other, and the wind died down as Hannibal’s breathing steadied, his arms wrapped tightly around Will, holding him close.


	17. Chapter 17

Over the next few days, Hannibal truly began to explain himself. Neither wanted to leave the other’s side, and so they did all their daily chores together: chopping firewood, feeding Will’s dogs, hunting stag for his pack to eat. There was no need to hunt for themselves; the spoils of the battle would last them a long time.

“How do you keep the meat from spoiling?” Will asked. Hannibal gave him a crooked, flirtatious smile.

“Why do you think I keep it always winter?” he responded. “All the bodies are carefully frozen.”

Will rolled his eyes.

“That can’t be the only reason.”

Hannibal shrugged, a gesture that he did not perform in front of anyone else. “I enjoy winter.”

He lifted the axe and brought it down upon the wood, splicing the log imperfectly down the center.

“You have no need of fire for cooking.” Will said. “I’ve seen you eat people raw.”

“My other body, being more emotional and therefore prone to impatience, is happy to eat raw meat. This body, however, prefers the finer tastes of cooking.”

Will tilted his head to the side, carrying the split logs to the pile and grabbing another to place in front of Hannibal.

“You _like_ living as a man.” he said. Hannibal paused. He lowered the axe to rest it on the ground, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow, and seriously contemplated that statement.

“I enjoy the things humans create. Art and music, especially.” he said.

Will snorted.

“Then why the hell do you live _here_? Why not live in a city, where they actually _have_ those things?”

Hannibal raised his eyes and they were suddenly very dark. In them Will saw the predator, and it sent tingles through his skin.

“My other body belongs in the forest, Will. There, its power can be raw and untamed. As you have seen, I am intricately tied to nature. I have always resided in the forest, guarding the villages under my care from predators other than myself. My human form moves between them, staying perhaps twenty years or so in one village before moving to another, so that the residents never notice that I do not age. Ten years ago, I noticed a very handsome hunter, who intrigued me enough so that I decided this village would be my next place of residence, though it was not until a few weeks ago that I was graced with meeting him face-to-face.” Will saw the depth of desire in his face, the way he looked like he wanted to eat Will and also protect him with his life.

“Me.”

Hannibal nodded once.

“You are... Irresistible.”

Will swallowed thickly and felt his heart race faster. They had made love every night since the first time, unable to keep their hands off each other, sometimes not even making it until nightfall. Will half expected this to be one of those moments, but then Hannibal raised the axe and brought it down upon the log. The wood split in one stroke with a crack.

“Your allure is not lost on others.” Hannibal said. “It is why Tobias came. It attracted Randall. Now that you are awakening, more will come.”

Will furrowed his brows as he turned that over in his mind, trying to understand.

Hannibal grabbed one of the log-halves, slamming it down on the chopping block, and swung with all his might. The log splintered, the two ends flying apart an inhuman distance.

“Hannibal?” Will asked.

Hannibal stopped chopping, set the axe down, and walked towards Will. He brushed the backs of his fingers across Will’s cheek with affection, his eyes exploring his face with concern.

“I do not know whether I can protect you until you hatch.”

Will’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“…hatch?”

Hannibal’s fingers reached up to stroke through his hair, then slid down to caress over his neck and across his shoulders.

“When you are ready.” he said. “Until then, they will come and attempt to steal you from me.”

Will felt a primal, ferocious rage boil up within him. He still didn’t know what he looked like when he _changed_ , but he could feel his teeth growing longer and sharper within his mouth.

“I will not let them.” he growled, and Hannibal’s lips crushed against his, eagerly devouring him. He pushed him to the ground and they made love once again, this time outside in the dirt, in the sun.

* * *

The next time they went into the woods, Hannibal led them south.

“Are we going to see…you?” Will asked, following behind him, still feeling out of place without his musket and his dogs, though he knew he no longer needed either. He flexed his fingers open and closed in front of himself, knowing that they had turned into claws several times, now, and yet not able to quite remember what they looked like, or how it felt.

“Not at the moment.” Hannibal said. “There is much I would like to explain to you, so I need the capacity for complex language.”

Will furrowed his eyebrows together as he tried to understand -- an expression he was doing a lot, lately.

“Can you not both…be in the same place?”

Hannibal stopped walking and turned to face Will, placing his palm on Will’s cheek, a gesture Will was learning he was quite fond of doing. 

“Will.” he said, his voice rough with emotion, his gaze piercing into Will’s eyes. “You greatly underestimate the effect that your presence has upon me.” Hannibal stroked his thumb slowly across Will’s cheek. “While this part of me is able to think when you are nearby, hardly so for my other half. It already is easily overwhelmed by emotion but you bring that to a deeper extreme. If I am to explain anything to you, I must do it with this mouth. My other mouth only desires to devour you in lust.”

Will’s blush was red and deep, even after days of repeatedly making love to Hannibal. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to the intensity with which Hannibal regarded him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

They resumed walking, and Will looked up at the golden and red leaves above them, autumn having engulfed the village over the last few weeks. The transition to winter as they walked was still just as unnatural, however, with the dusting of snow upon the ground accompanied by the utter silence of the forest around them. The sky turned from light gray to dark, and Will was still amazed at how the cold no longer affected him.

“Where are we going?” Will asked. Hannibal turned his head to speak over his shoulder.

“There are things you must know, which are better shown than explained.” he said, and continued walking.

The forest grew thicker as they walked, and the sky grew darker. The trunks of the trees became enormously wide, huge monstrosities, each of which looked thousands of years old. Their branches creaked high above them, blowing in the steady, frozen wind that whipped up against the blackened, lightless sky.

Will recognized where they were. It was near the place where he had killed Garret, and had first laid eyes on the Ravenstag. He thought of mentioning that to Hannibal, but it felt inappropriate to speak here. Everything was silent but for the wind, and should remain so.

Still they went deeper into the Southern Forest, until there was hardly any light to see by at all. Will couldn’t see much farther in front of himself than Hannibal’s back, his eyes darting around them as he started to hear sounds that shouldn’t be. Wings fluttered past them on creatures he couldn’t see; now and then the sound of something with hooves, but how many it had seemed to change. 

He looked down at his hands and saw they were black. As dark as night. He held them against his chest to see if it was a trick of the light, but his clothes had their usual color. When he pulled them away, they looked normal again.

Hannibal stopped. Will stopped beside him.

So did the sounds of everything else around them. Every unseen creature halted in its motions, and Will felt their eyes: thousands of them, watching, even as he saw nothing around him but blackness.

Hannibal turned to look at Will, his face without emotion. Entirely blank.

Will dared not speak.

There was a rustling to his right, and the sound of a low, vicious growl, followed by the clack of teeth. Hannibal snapped his eyes in the direction of the sound, and it stopped.

He returned his gaze to Will, lifting a hand to stroke along his cheek.

“You are mine, and they all know it.” he said. Will felt his heart racing faster and in the darkness, in the silence, knew that everything around them could hear it, as well.

“Yet you are still mortal, which makes you vulnerable. Easily made dead.”

Will opened his mouth, but then closed it again.

“You can speak, Will.” Hannibal said. Will’s eyes darted into the darkness around them, his ears listening to the deafening silence, before falling back to land on Hannibal’s face.

“It feels like I shouldn’t.” he said softly. Hannibal’s blank expression melted into a smile, then. His affection for Will was plain.

“Which is one of the reasons I am so in love with you.” Hannibal said. “You are very aware, even in your blind, mortal state.”

That word again. Will asked the question this time.

“You are immortal?”

Hannibal’s grin was wide and toothy.

“Of course.”

“How…old are you?” Will asked.

“I am young.” Hannibal replied. “A mere few hundred years.”

Will shook his head as his mind tried to reject and accept the idea at the same time.

“It is why I had not yet chosen a mate.” Hannibal said, moving the hand that rested on Will’s cheek to stroke along it. “Because I had not yet met one who was worthy.”

Will felt his old nerves coming back to him, just a little. It made him tremble, and he lifted his hand to press Hannibal’s palm to his cheek for reassurance.

“Am I worthy?”

Hannibal gave a soft laugh.

“That you survived your first taste of me makes that clear.”

Will remembered the Wendigo’s… _Hannibal’s_ tendril sliding down his throat, his teeth slicing it off, swallowing it whole.

“Such an act should have killed you. But I knew from the moment you regarded the Ravenstag with such respect, that you could become more than just a man.” Hannibal said. Will sighed and rolled his eyes, becoming just a little too comfortable in this otherworldly place.

“Are you going to dance around the subject forever, or finally just _tell me_?”

Hannibal removed his hand from Will’s face and opened his arms.

“Come.”

Will squinted with suspicion, but took the step that brought him against Hannibal’s chest, and into his arms.

“Turn and face the world, and I shall help you See.” Hannibal said. Will did so, pressing his back against Hannibal’s chest. He felt his left arm wrap around his stomach and pull him close, and Will felt the heat of Hannibal’s body pressed against him. His lips brushed against Will’s ear when he spoke, and he lifted his right hand to rest against Will’s forehead.

The moment he did, there was the flash of brilliant yellow light that Will had seen when Hannibal had given him visions before, from his Wendigo body.

The world around him became light. Will could immediately _see_. They were surrounded by creatures, all pure black: things with fangs, things with horns, things with claws and teeth, all with glowing white eyes as the Wendigo had. They were still in a forest but the trees here were _old_ , ancient, many thousands and thousands of years. In their branches rested the things with wings, some with feathers, some more like bats. Among the creatures on the ground, he saw the kind that had attacked the villagers.

“These are my subjects.” Hannibal whispered in Will’s ear, his lips brushing his skin, making him hot, even as he was stared at by thousands of eyes. “And I am their king. They do my bidding when I ask, including to battle to the death, if required. In return, I protect them.”

Will swallowed thickly, trying to find his voice, aware that he was in a place he should not be, feeling like a trespasser.

“Protect them?” His eyes studied the grotesque, amorphous beasts in front of him, and didn’t want to imagine what could possibly make things like _them_ be afraid. “From…what?” he managed.

“I am formidable.” Hannibal replied, “but there are opponents who could best me.”

Will swallowed thickly.

“Such as?”

He felt Hannibal sigh behind him. The presence of his breath was a comfort in the face of all his eyes were showing him; the strangeness of what he saw did not become less strange as time passed. The creatures he looked at hardly moved; one would cock a head to the side, now and then, or a wing would flap, but for the most part, they remained eerily still.

“Humans who know what they are doing.” he replied. “Much more competent than Pazzi. Others of my own kind.” he continued. “Or, though rare, there are a few spirits more powerful than we.”

“We?” Will asked, struggling not to tremble. He didn’t want to look as pathetic as he felt, a lump of flesh in the midst of such elegance and power.

“Don’t tell me you’re turning back on your becoming _now_.” Hannibal said, though Will could feel the smile on his lips, because he already knew the answer was ‘no’.

“I just…didn’t. I don’t. Am I becoming like you?”

“Yes and no.”

Hannibal raised his left palm, and before them rose white lights, little orbs that danced in the air before his eyes. They changed and became shapes resembling animals, regular ones, the kind Will knew, and among them also floated what looked like a human.

“Every living thing has a spirit. For most, it is small.” he said, and little flames alighted within each of the animals before Will’s eyes. “It lives in a body, and is tied to that body, and when it leaves the body…” the flames snuffed out, and the little white animals fell, and died, including the human.

“Death.” Hannibal replied.

Around him, Will heard what he thought might have been snickers. Hannibal turned his face only slightly, and they immediately fell silent.

“Then there are those whose spirit is free.” Hannibal said. The animals rose, and the flames within them returned. The flames grew, to encompass them, then left them entirely to wander as their own entities, and they became shape-shifters, grotesque as the creatures Will looked upon. “For these, the spirit is free to wander as it will. The body is immortal, the spirit is immortal, because their separation does not mean death. The only way for us to die is if both are harmed together.”

Will’s eyes darted over the show of light that played before him, trying to understand.

“Pazzi’s sword…”

“Was made of both.” Hannibal replied. “Both the spirit and body of a Ravenstag. And so it harmed both of me. That was a very dangerous weapon.”

“How did you…how did you kill Tobias?” Will asked. “If…if his body and spirit were separate, like yours?”

“I slit both of his throats at once. He was a fool, who brought his human body close to the battle. It was easy for my Wendigo half to destroy them both.”

Will leaned back into Hannibal as some of the tension left his body, as he finally felt he understood more than he didn’t. The dancing lights before them vanished, and Hannibal’s hand returned to his waist, holding him up on his feet.

“But…you need to eat.” Will said. “Both of your bodies…need…”

“Food indeed gives strength.” Hannibal replied. “If only the spirit has nourishment, then I would be weaker. If only my human body had nourishment, again, I would be weaker. In either state, I would be susceptible to my enemies. And if neither had nourishment, for long enough, then yes, we can die from starvation.”

Will’s eyes darted out among the thousands watching him, and in them he saw great respect for Hannibal. 

“Do they eat humans too?” he whispered. Hannibal chuckled softly, the movement of his chest against Will’s back grounding and comforting.

“Hardly. That diet is specific to my kind.” Hannibal said, lifting his left hand to brush over Will’s lips. “How delighted I was when you chose to share that with me.”

Will’s cheeks burned and heat rose to his face. He closed his eyes, needing just that small bit of privacy from the attentive audience, knowing that they all saw just how hopelessly fallen he was for Hannibal.

“And now I draw strength from eating human flesh, as you do.” he whispered.

“Yes.” Hannibal said, and Will could _hear_ the pride in his voice, as well as feel the smile of his lips against his ear.

“So, when I…finish my becoming, I will be exactly like you?”

“Your becoming is your spirit growing in strength, Will. Strength enough to leave your body and wander free, as mine does, as _all_ of ours do.” Hannibal said, making a wide gesture to include all those that watched them. “But that does not make you my mirror image. Your spirit is _yours_ , and it is taking on the form _you_ give it. Though I may whisper through the chrysalis, what hatches follows its own nature and is beyond me.”

Though there had already been silence, Will sensed there was a hush that fell over the crowd at that statement. Whatever laughter there had been was gone.

He felt the hand Hannibal held to his stomach stroke up his chest to caress his cheek, Hannibal’s other hand remaining pressed to his forehead, giving him a glimpse of the world that was to come.

“But right now, you are in between. You are strong enough so that those like me will notice you but weak enough to be killed. Which is why,” Hannibal said, standing straighter, lifting his head to turn and stare at all the crowd before them, “He will be protected, and safe in this kingdom and in this forest. He is mine and I will die to keep him, and if I die, so do all of you. However, if he lives, your reward will be two protectors; two kings to rule over you. Make your choice.”

Will struggled to keep down the shivers that seemed to still plague him whenever Hannibal got too—well, _Hannibal_. He watched as all of the creatures, slowly, one by one as if each made its own decision, lower their heads in a bow of servitude. Not one turned to leave. Not one dissented.

Will heard, before he saw, and turned his head to see a being of shining white coming towards them. He squinted out of habit, though realized quickly he wasn’t _actually_ seeing, his eyes were probably still staring into darkness. The glowing white creature came closer and Will saw it was a Ravenstag, its antlers taller and more majestic than he’d ever seen before. It did not bow, but held its head high and proud as it approached them, its whole body glowing bright white.

“The stags are another kind.” Hannibal said. “They do not answer to me, nor to anyone. But in general, we do agree on most courses of action. He has come to accept you as one of us.” Hannibal said.

Will tilted his face upward and lifted his hand to stroke along the fur of the stag’s enormous neck. It looked down at him with kind, majestic eyes, and in them Will saw unfettered goodness. 

“Thank you.” Will replied, and though he had no visual reason to believe so, he felt that the stag gave him a kind smile.

Then it bowed its head to him, turned, and walked away, the sea of black creatures parting to let it pass, until its shining whiteness was swallowed by the darkness, and there was silence.

“You may rise.” Hannibal said, and at that every creature’s head lifted. “You are dismissed.”

Will saw some of them begin to walk away, others slither, others fly; some dissipated into the air and some melted into the ground. Then Hannibal took his hand away from his forehead and he was blind to it all but Hannibal. He gasped at the sudden change, his ears still hearing whispers of the commotion that he knew was going on about him. He shrank against Hannibal’s back and felt his arms tighten around him protectively.

“They will not harm you, Will.”

Will nodded, still shaking. Hannibal stepped away from him and slid his hand down to clasp their fingers together. He began to walk, and led Will blindly through the darkness, until he started to see the silhouettes of trees against a slightly lightened sky. As they walked he became more able to see things, until they were in the normal part of the Southern Forest, knee-deep in snow that Will could see, and feel, and hear crunch beneath his feet.

“Hannibal.” Will said, and the spirit king turned to face him, expression questioning.

Will pulled him forward for a kiss, long and deep, his lips parting to suck Hannibal’s into his mouth. Hannibal pulled Will tightly into an embrace and groaned softly into it, his breath as warm and alive as any human’s.

Will pulled back with lowered lashes and flushed cheeks.

“Have I answered all your questions, my love?” he said.

“I think so.” Will replied. “King, huh? Could’ve told me that sooner; I might have eaten a part of you faster.”

Hannibal gave him the endearing expression that he reserved only for Will’s most annoying statements.

They walked back through the forest hand-in-hand, Will listening to the sounds of the woodland creatures, every now and then hearing an extra footstep or flap of wing that could not be seen. 


	18. Chapter 18

The spontaneous changes to more unnatural forms was one reason Will hadn’t gone back to the village. Another was not wanting to face any of the villagers and be pestered by questions; he didn’t know the answers he was going to give and didn’t want to think about it. But after two weeks of basically living at Hannibal’s house, stopping at his own house twice a day only to feed the dogs, Hannibal brought up the obvious.

“Why don’t you move in with me, Will?”

He snorted.

“What, and get married?”

“If that is what you prefer.”

Will put down the hammer he’d been swinging, building an extension on the slaughter shed, since it now had to accommodate both human and stag meat. He rose to his feet and wiped his brow with his forearm, squinting in the sun as Hannibal took several deliberate steps towards him. He lifted his hand to Will’s cheek, as he was so fond of doing, and stroked it, ignoring the sweat glistening on his skin.

Their gazes locked, and Will’s entire world shrank to become only the fingers on his face and Hannibal’s eyes.

“Live with me, Will.” he repeated. 

“I…I don’t know.” Will said, furrowing his brow, darting his eyes to the side. 

“Do you not wish to spend every night in my bed?”

“What? Of course I do.”

Hannibal said nothing more and let that sink in. Will sighed and lowered his shoulders, which he’d been holding tense.

“Then make your move complete.” Hannibal said. “Bring your pack here.”

Will’s eyes snapped back to Hannibal’s and he gave him a disbelieving look.

“You would tolerate that?”

Hannibal snorted and let a slightly amused smile prick at the corners of his lips.

“I am quite fond of beasts, you know.”

Will rolled his eyes.

“Yes, the magical kind. My dogs are just…dogs.”

Hannibal pulled back and walked towards the house where the pile of lumber lay, selecting the next board to be nailed up. He lifted it easily with one arm, displaying just how unnaturally strong he was, a fact that still made Will weak in the knees no matter how many times he saw it.

“Your dogs are as loyal to you as my subjects are to me. Perhaps more so.” Hannibal said. “I hold a great deal of respect for such loyalty. I would gladly welcome them into our kingdom.”

He held the board up against the posts while Will grabbed nails and swung the hammer, a perfectly well-oiled team that was efficient without the need for words.

“I need to know a few things first.” Will asked, leaning back on his heels when he was finished, resting on the grass for a moment.

“Anything, dear Will.” Hannibal replied.

“After I…hatch,” he said, the word still foreign and strange on his tongue, mostly because he knew he still didn’t _fully_ grasp what it meant, “Will I be immortal?”

“Of course.” Hannibal replied.

“So…what if, in five hundred years, we’re not in love anymore?”

Hannibal gave a serious nod to that, before turning and sitting on the grass beside Will. He dipped a cup into the bucket of water laced with human blood that sat beside them and handed it to him, and Will gratefully gulped it down. 

“While I can be highly certain that I will be madly devoted to you for the rest of my days, I cannot know your mind, nor where it will lead you.” Hannibal said carefully, glancing down into the bottom of the empty cup when Will handed it back to him. “But you are your own, Will. Your hatching, what you become and what you do with your life afterwards is all up to you. My desire is that you will stay by my side forever. But should you desire something else, I will be in no position to stop you.”

Will heard the pain in Hannibal’s voice as he spoke. He also heard the sincerity. He would let Will live his life as he chose, even if it meant a broken heart for himself.

Will dove his lips onto Hannibal and crushed them together, pressing his back into the grass, caressing his fingers through his straight blond hair. Hannibal groaned under his lips and wrapped his arms around his back tightly, both enjoying the taste of each other, the closeness of each other.

When Will pulled back he could feel Hannibal’s erection pressing against the knee he had between his legs.

“You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Lecter.” Will said. Hannibal rolled his eyes and whacked Will with a nearby rag.

“Your puns are abominable.”

“Please, you love puns.”

Hannibal rolled his eyes, an expression Will had never seen him make until recently. It seemed that the more time they spent together, the more emotional Hannibal’s man-body became.

“I used to enjoy them, before you started slaughtering them against my ears with regularity.”

Will grinned, and Hannibal could only respond with another kiss.

Will pulled back and sat up again, then stood, helping Hannibal to his feet.

“I do have another question.” Will said.

“Of course.”

He turned and looked at the shed they were building, contemplating its purpose.

“Do you intend to stay here, in this village?”

Hannibal regarded the shed with some thought before responding.

“For now. But if you wish to move, I will not object. I understand that you might have certain…attachments to some of the residents here. We can hunt elsewhere.”

Will thought about that for a long time, turning his head away to look out into the trees that made up the edge of the Southern Forest.

“I never noticed that there was a hunter among us, eating us.” he said. “The village never seems to dwindle in population. I remember certain people going missing, but they always seemed to be of little consequence, most of the time assumed to have left town and chosen not to return. How did you do that?”

Hannibal turned to face Will, just as a cold wind blew out from the forest towards them, reminding Will once again that he was _changing_ , because he did not shiver. Fall was in full swing, now, the colors of the leaves brilliant golds and oranges around them. Hannibal reached his hand out to clasp Will’s before he spoke, stroking his thumb gently over the back of his hand.

“A herdsman may still hold affection for the herd, even as he selects some to be sent to the slaughter for his own nourishment.” Hannibal said. “A good herdsman knows his animals. Knows which are strong, which are weak; which are good for breeding, which are ready to be eaten.”

Will regarded him for a long time as he let that sink in. 

“The village is…livestock, to you?”

Hannibal nodded matter-of-factly, and Will found himself comforted by the fact, rather than horrified. 

“As I protect my forest, I also protect the villages that surround it from outside predators.” Hannibal said. “This village benefits much from my presence, though they would probably disagree, if they knew.”

Will looked down at the hand he had entwined his fingers with, and lifted it, stroking the back of it with his fingers, studying it. It looked so, so human. It was warm, he could see the bones and veins along the back of it, even a birthmark here and a small scar there.

“ _That’s_ why you play doctor.” he said. “You _do_ care about them.”

Hannibal smiled.

“What good is livestock that is sickly or injured?” Hannibal replied. “And deaths that happen to occur under a doctor’s care are not deemed suspicious.”

Will gave a sarcastic laugh, wondering how the hell Hannibal was able to _so thickly_ pull the wool over all their eyes.

“If we stay,” Will said, “There are certain people I’d never want eaten.”

“Of course.” Hannibal replied. “It is my greatest desire to grant your every wish, Will.”

No matter how often Hannibal professed such things, Will still felt his heart race when he talked that way. He looked up into his eyes and saw devotion deeper than he could describe, and knew Hannibal meant it when he said he’d easily love him for eternity.

“I’d like to stay living in the village, then.” he said. “Maybe not forever. But for now.”

“Then we shall stay.” Hannibal replied, unable to hide the happiness that lit his eyes when he said it.

Will nodded.

“Then I’ll bring my dogs.” he said, turning to look at the back yard, already imagining where he would build a pen for them; how he could divert the small stream in the back to bring them fresh water.

“Wonderful.” Hannibal replied.

“And I want a wedding.” Will said. “You want it official? You’re gonna get official.”

* * *

“How are you feeling, Mr. Crawford?” Hannibal asked as he and Will sat in Jack’s living room, the four of them sipping tea Bella had prepared.

“Much better, thanks to you, Doctor.” Jack said, with a smile of genuine gratitude. “I’ve gained most of my strength back. Even made it up and down the stairs on my own the last two days.”  
Hannibal looked from Jack, to Will, to Bella, with a glint in his eye that Will knew was more amusement than actual happiness. He lifted his teacup in a toast.

“That’s excellent news, Jack.” he said. “A toast, to your health.”

Jack smiled and they all toasted and sipped their tea.

“Then perhaps this will be my last house call to check up on your healing.” Hannibal said. “Now that the stitches are removed, you are no longer in need of my services.”

“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve proven yourself to be quite worth your reputation. I’m deeply sorry about the…misunderstanding we had just before the battle.” Jack said, setting his teacup down with a solemn expression. “You have to understand…”

“You were only doing what you thought was best for the village, as is your duty.” Hannibal responded, his tone and face ever understanding. “I hold no ill will against you for it.”

Will bit his tongue at that, both to keep back his laughter at the absurd lie, and his own snapping remark.

“I’m grateful for your forgiveness.” Jack said. “I wish there was a way I could make it up to you.”  
“Actually,” Hannibal said, setting his teacup down on the table and pulling Will’s hand between his palms, holding it more tenderly than he usually did in public. It made Will blush.

“We were hoping you would officiate over our wedding.”

Bella reacted first, a smile of delight brightening up her face all the way to her eyes. Jack was quick to follow with a smile of his own, then a deep chuckle as he reached around to pat Hannibal hard on his shoulder.

“Hannibal, you old dog! Congratulations!” he said.

“Oh Will, I’m so happy for you!” Bella added, and Will found himself returning her bright smile despite his shyness about it.

“I have to admit, I never saw the two of you as a pair! But now that I’m used to it, well. I think you’re a good match.” Jack said. He held up his teacup in a high toast.

“To Hannibal and Will!” he said, and Will couldn’t help getting a little caught up in the moment, even as he simultaneously wanted to roll his eyes. He lifted his teacup and felt Hannibal squeeze his hand tightly as they toasted again and drank.

“To happier times. Our village is freed of the beast, and now we can celebrate!” Bella said.

“Oh! Speaking of.” Jack said, setting his teacup down empty. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Will: how _did_ you manage to defeat it? The entire town is curious.”

Will tensed in his seat and squeezed Hannibal’s hand tightly. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to explain…

“Will has no memory of the incident, Jack, just as you and Alana barely remember.” Hannibal said with a hushed tone. “We’ve been trying to pull it out of him for weeks but it seems his mind has been deeply affected by the beast’s magic. The last thing he remembers is walking with your band, towards the Southern Forest. Then nothing until he awoke to the Ravenstag beside him, helping him carry you and Alana to safety.”

Jack furrowed his brow with thought, then frustration, then sighed.

“I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought…”

“If we knew what I did, we could do it again if there ever came a need.” Will said, and Jack nodded grimly.

“I don’t think that will be an issue, Jack.” Hannibal said. “Mr. Pazzi seemed to know what he was talking about and from what he said, the beast seemed to be quite a rare kind.”

“I do hope you’re right about that, Hannibal.” Jack said.

“Oh, Jack, stop being so serious! Let’s not talk about this now. Our village is safe, and there’s about to be a wedding!” Bella said. “Have you decided where you’re having it?” she asked, her eyes light over the top of her cup. Will squirmed. He hadn’t really thought it through that far.

“We haven’t made any decisions as of yet.” he said.

“That’s alright, there’s no rush.” Bella said, lifting the teapot to refill everyone’s cup. “But I know who should cater. Will’s very fond of Bedelia’s food. Or at least, her whiskey.”

Both she and Jack chuckled, and Will tensed again. Catering. Food. That he couldn’t eat. Drinks he couldn’t drink. This was maybe not the best idea…

“We still have to discuss these finer details.” Hannibal said. “But we’ll keep you informed about our plans.”

He rose, and Will rose after him, perhaps a little too quickly. Nobody thought anything of it; Will Graham had always been shy and eager to leave a social gathering.

“For now, we have to be on our way to attend to Alana. She still has quite a bit of healing to do.”

“Yes, of course.” Jack said, shaking both of their hands and offering his congratulations again. Will said his goodbyes and that was all, his head swimming as they stepped back out into the street to make their way towards the Verger estate.

“Catering? How will we eat it?”

“Relax, dear Will. I will provide all the food for our feast. You will be able to eat every morsel, should you so desire.”

“How will you…”

“We’ll think of a plausible explanation. I do have a lot of funds squirreled away from all the doctoring I’ve done recently.”

“But I’m not sure if…”

“Then there’s the matter of your wardrobe. We should stop at the tailor’s to have something new made for you. Nothing you currently own is suitable for a wedding…”

“Hannibal!” Will cried, stopping in the middle of the street. Hannibal turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Something troubling you?”

“When I said I wanted a wedding, I meant a small one! Just a couple of friends! Bev, Alana, Margot, maybe Abigail! Not…all this!”

Hannibal regarded him for a moment and tilted his head to the side.

“Oh.”

Will stopped, lowering the hands he’d apparently raised, and saw the disappointment, well-hidden, through the mask on Hannibal’s expression.

“Wait. You’re excited about this.”

Hannibal turned from him without saying a word and continued walking down the road, silently.

“Hannibal…I thought…I thought you weren’t interested in being married, that you were only doing it for me.”

“What I desire from you is eternal partnership, which cannot be represented by a human wedding, no.”

His face was still stoic as he walked and Will found himself hurrying to keep up with his lengthy strides. 

“Then why…”

Will’s eyes went wide and he stopped, putting his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders and forcing him to face him.

“You like human aesthetics.” Will said, an accusatory smile pricking the corner of his lips. “This is your chance. To have the fancy music, and the art, and the food, and the clothes, in this small rotten town.”

Hannibal’s eyes finally found their way to Will’s and he saw them misting, moved as his lover understood him even without explanation.

“I want to give you a wedding fit for the king you are to become.” he said.

Will found himself rolling his eyes again, but when they returned they were captured by Hannibal’s gaze, his thumb raised under Will’s chin to tilt it up just a hair towards his face.

“But if you object…”

Will sighed and gave Hannibal a crooked smile, tilting his head to the side in a manner he’d learned made Hannibal pine after him even more.

“I don’t object. I was just…taken by surprise.” he said. “I’m not used to…being the center of large public displays.”

Hannibal smiled, so wide it crinkled the sides of his eyes. 

“You will become so.” he said. “You are to be a king, after all.”

Will shook his head, still in disbelief at that. He lifted his arms and wrapped them around Hannibal’s neck.

“You are incorrigible.” he said, leaning up for a kiss. Hannibal pulled him into it tightly, before releasing him, and they intertwined their hands as they walked on towards the Verger estate, Hannibal excitedly talking about all the different artisans he was going to hire to make their wedding beautiful.

* * *

The mood was not as jovial in the Verger house. The atmosphere was still dampened after Mason’s disappearance, though it was assumed he’d somehow gotten caught by the Wendigo, as he’d disappeared the same day of the battle. Alana was still bedridden, unable to walk, though she had healed enough to be able to sit up. Every day Hannibal visited her, and every day Will came, waiting in the hall outside her door while Hannibal gave her an examination.

“Can you feel me prick your toes?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Excellent. And they are a good color, getting proper circulation. How is the pain?”

“Not terrible.” she said, though her voice sounded faded, tired. “The medicine you give me helps.”

“I’ve brought another daily supply.” he said. “Now push your foot against my hand…good. You are getting stronger.”

Will bit the inside of his cheek, feeling strange that he knew the charade Hannibal was playing with Alana’s body. That she was healing only from the damage he’d surgically done to her. That she was nothing more to him than a cow; a healthy one, raising a calf, therefore valuable, but not more than that.

He glanced over at Margot, who sat in an armchair in the hall near the wall Will leaned against. They didn’t look at each other. She hadn’t spoken to him since Mason’s funeral, which he hadn’t attended. These visits had become routine: he and Margot would wait in awkward silence while Hannibal examined Alana; then he’d exit the room and Margot would rush in, and Will would consider walking in to say hello…and then wind up leaving without saying a word.

The door opened and Hannibal turned to Margot with a smile on his face.

“Her legs are much stronger.” he said. “I suspect she will be able to stand within a few days, with support.”

Margot leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Hannibal’s neck in a tight embrace. A sob escaped her and then she ran into the room, where Will heard an excited exchange of words followed by the sound of kisses.

Down the hall, the baby started crying.

“I’ve got it!” Abigail shouted, rushing from her room a few doors down.

“No, no, I’ve got it, Abigail.” Margot said, stepping out, wiping a tear from her cheek. “We just got the best news, Abby.” she said, and the two of them disappeared into the baby’s room. 

“Well, then. My work here is done for today.” Hannibal said, leaning down to pick up his doctoring bag. He stepped towards the stairs and Will started after him, when he caught a glimpse of Alana’s face through the doorway.

“Will?” she called out. He stopped. His eyes darted to Hannibal.

“Why don’t you pay Alana a visit? I’ll wait for you downstairs.” he said, leaning over to give Will a peck on the cheek.

He nodded silently and turned to face the door. He cautiously stepped through it, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood on the far side of the room. Alana turned her body to face him. She looked exhausted.

“Will. You haven’t visited me.”  
“I’ve…been…here.” he said. “I just…never wanted to interrupt you and Margot…”

“You could have at least came in to say hi.”

He just stared at her. The real reason was that of everyone in this town, she knew him best. They’d been friends since before they could talk, and with all the changes he’d been going through, he was afraid she’d…notice.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Something’s different, about you.” she said. He swallowed nervously and found his fingers fidgeting in his pockets. “Ever since Jack claims you killed the Wendigo, you’ve been distant. I’ve hardly seen you. Your face is pale.”

“Yours isn’t much better.”

Her mouth snapped shut and she gave him an icy stare. His gaze fell and he found himself staring at the floorboards, waiting until she turned her face away and started picking at the fuzz on the blanket in front of her.

“Margot tells me you’re marrying Hannibal.”

He nodded curtly.

“I am.”

“Congratulations.” she said with a tight smile, her eyes misting over. “I’m happy for you.”  
“You don’t sound happy.”

She slammed her palm down on the blanket and snapped her head towards him.

“Because you’re _different_! You’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t know why! Are we not friends anymore?”

Guilt clawed up his throat and he tried to make a comforting face, though it probably came out as more of a scowl.

“We’re friends.”

“Then what is it?! You’ve _changed_ , Will.”

He shrugged.

“Falling in love changes a person.”

“Yes, but not like _this_. Why are you standing across the room, like that? Come here. Or do I offend you, now?”

He sighed and took a few steps closer. When he was within reaching distance Alana’s hand flew out and clasped his shirt, pulling him with unexpected strength to the side of her bed. She narrowed her eyes and stared up into his face, searching.

“Your eyes have changed color.” she said. He swallowed.

“I…wouldn’t know.”

“Yes, they have. They’re darker. They used to be blue. Now they’re…grey.”

_They were?_

He opened his mouth to reply, realized he had no idea what to say, and shut it.

She released his shirt and he rose to his proper height, though he stayed where he was.

“The Wendigo changed you.” she said. “When you killed it, something _happened_ to you, Will. Look, your fingernails are grey, your skin is pale, paler than _mine_ , and I’ve been bedridden! Doesn’t Hannibal notice? He’s a doctor, can’t he do something?”

“I feel fine, Alana.”

Her gaze pierced into his eyes and he wanted to look away, suddenly extremely self-conscious. He could feel his beast shifting beneath the surface, wanting to come out and declare itself after being so rudely offended. He trembled with the effort of keeping it in.

“Will, you’re shaking.” she said, genuine concern in her voice. “You’re sweating…”

“I’m just tired.” he said. “Been building a pen for the dogs at Hannibal’s house. Exhausting work.”

He could see she didn’t buy it at all.

“I’ve…got to get home. Got to feed them.” he said, taking a step back. Alana’s hand flew out and she clasped his hand without warning. Her eyes flew wide.

“You’re so _cold_!” she said, clasping his hand tightly, her face showing real worry, now.

“I’m fine, Alana. It’s just cold out.”

He yanked his hand away and took another step back.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” he said, turning and hurrying towards the door.

“Will, wait.” she said. It was the pain in her voice that made him stop at the threshold, though he didn’t turn to face her.

“I…I am really happy for you, that you’re marrying Hannibal. I am. Anyone can see that you’re in love.”

He clenched his jaw to steel himself, and then turned slowly around to face her again.

“And,” she said, lifting her chin high, as if what she was saying was difficult for her, “If you haven’t made other arrangements, let me offer you the Verger gardens for a venue. They’re gorgeous in the fall, and Verger Estate is large enough to hold the entire town, if you choose to invite them.”

His knee-jerk reaction was to say no, but then he thought about the fancy wedding that Hannibal wanted, and there really was nowhere more beautiful than the Verger gardens.

“That would be…very nice. Thank you.”

She nodded then, and he saw in her features her desperation to rekindle their friendship.

“Then I’d love you to have it here.” she said. “I want to see you happy.”

He tried to smile. He really did. He hoped the expression he managed to wrangle resembled one in some way.

“Me too.” he said.

* * *

Within a day of Hannibal asking Jack if he’d officiate the wedding the entire town was abuzz. It had, apparently, been over two years since Alana and Margot’s wedding, and no one had been married since.

Every shop owner suddenly had so much to sell, and everyone else had their two cents to put in. If Will had been avoiding town before, he abhorred it now, and was reluctantly dragged along with Hannibal every time he went in to make more arrangements. He made the best of it by spending most of his time with Beverly who, while she wouldn’t stop fawning over him, was more tolerable than other company.

“So, how’s the dog-pen coming?” she asked, lying on her bed in the small apartment she rented above the bakery. She was lying on her back with her head hung over the end upside-down, while she kicked her feet in the air as if they were still children.

“Fine.” Will said, leaning back against the wall of her bedroom, his eyes distracted by the view of the woods outside her window.

“How long until it’s finished?”

He shrugged.

“Couple days.”

She rolled over onto her stomach and raised her head.

“Come on, Will, what’s bothering you?”

He tore his eyes from the window and faced her, wondering what she saw when she looked at him.

“Do I seem…different, to you?”

She narrowed her eyes and peered at him for a moment, then cocked her head to the side, thinking.

“Hmmm…nope. Still just as cranky and awkward as always.”

He grabbed a pillow off her windowsill and tossed it at her, whacking her in the head and messing up her hair. She laughed.

“You’re not helping.”

“Awww, come on, Will. Yes, you’re different than you were before you started dating Hannibal. You’re _happier_. You smile now. You make jokes. Hell, I’ve even seen you laugh.” she said. 

“Really?” he said, frowning, which made her snort.

“Well not when you put on a face like _that_ , but yes, really. Hannibal is good for you. You seem…more alive, because of him.”

He looked at her with an expression of deep gratefulness.

“You really mean that.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Of course I do. Will, is someone giving you a hard time about marrying Hannibal?” she asked, sitting up and crossing her arms. 

“Maybe. People have suggested I look…pale.”

She rolled her eyes again.

“You’re _always_ pale. Do you even know what the sun looks like?”

He glared. She laughed.

“Okay, yes. Fine. You seem a little…different, ever since the Wendigo thing. So killing it made your eyes change color, it’s nothing to be self-conscious about. I’m just happy that you didn’t come back in pieces, okay? You’re gonna look amazing at your wedding, and frankly you’re a hero who saved the town, so who cares if your…coloration is a little different?”

Will sighed, partially from relief and partially from giving up. As always, Beverly’s mind seemed to be on an entirely different track than his—but also, she didn’t care. She just accepted him, however he wanted to be. She never tried to change him into something he wasn’t. And as misinformed as she was, it was comforting.

He wondered what she would think if she knew the truth.

“Now come on.” she said, rising to her feet and extending a hand towards him. “I promised Hannibal I’d take you to the tailor for a new suit. _Don’t_ give me that look.” she said, before he even had a chance to scowl. “You’re going to look handsome at your wedding if I have to drag you there unconscious.”

* * *

“Hannibal.” Will said, walking into the kitchen as he was preparing the last of the food for the wedding. The new shed was filled from floor to ceiling with it; weeks and weeks of Hannibal cooking, baking, and creating a feast to feed the entire town. The inside of the shed was as cold as winter, with ice lining the wooden walls inside, and Will still couldn’t help marvel at the power Hannibal held. He knew that even now, he was only getting the barest glimpses of it. Every morsel of it was painstakingly created, and Will had watched him with awe and affection, still floored that he put _so_ much effort into details because of _him_.

“Yes, my love?” Hannibal said, carefully squeezing icing out of a sheepskin bag onto the towering, five-layer wedding cake that now occupied their kitchen table.

“Why didn’t you tell me my eyes are different?”

Hannibal paused in his work, setting the bag down on the counter.

“Your eyes are not different, Will.”

“Yes, they are. People have been mentioning it to me, and I finally looked in a mirror, and they’re right. They used to be blue. Now they’re grey. And my _fingers_ are turning grey, _look_ …” he said, holding up his hands for Hannibal to see.

Hannibal took two steps towards Will and put his palm to his cheek, locking their eyes together, their noses inches apart.

“You are very close to hatching.” he said simply. “The shell of your body is thinning. Your spirit is getting ready to break through. People are simply seeing what was always there, but was hidden deeper, and is now on the surface.” he explained. “Since I have always seen you, to me, you have not changed. Merely grown stronger.”

Will studied Hannibal’s eyes for a long time, searching for a lie, or a half-truth, as Hannibal had so often given him when he’d first started courting him. But there was no trace of one. All Will saw was his sincerity and utter affection for him.

“What will happen, when I hatch?” he said, the word still catching on his tongue, leaving him with the sour taste of uncertainty.

“You will shine more brightly than you ever have.” Hannibal said. “The world of spirits will be changed. Many are beginning to notice.” he said, turning back to the bag of icing and picking it up carefully, pumping delicate white flowers onto the cake with precision.

“Why? Why am I so damned important? Tobias, Randall…they keep trying to kill me. You keep saying there will be others. _Explain_ this to me!”

Will shouted from his frustration. It was hard not to be angry when he constantly felt like he only had half the information.

Hannibal seemed unperturbed by his outburst, and continued going about decorating his cake, remaining infuriatingly calm as he spoke.

“Being as powerful as I am has lent me the opportunity to create many enemies.” Hannibal said simply. “I am greatly feared already. But once I have you by my side, we will be invincible. No one will be able to overcome the power of us together, once we are joined. Hence killing you beforehand is the last opportunity my enemies have of defeating me, and they are very aware of this.”

Will swallowed slowly and looked down at his hands. They were strangely colored, but there was nothing about them that seemed powerful to him.

“Your spirit is unfathomably powerful, Will.” Hannibal said, putting down the icing for a moment. He wiped his hands on a cloth and walked over to him, sliding his hand around to the back of his head, entwining his fingers in his hair. 

“The reason I, and so many others, are attracted to you is because of how powerful you are, Will. You would be an equal opponent to me, should you choose to be my enemy. The world of spirits doesn’t change in extreme ways like this often. Smaller spirits come and go, but the birth of one as powerful as you is an event that will be remembered for centuries. You are to be feared. And if others have their way, they will destroy you before you have a chance to become. Our joining will not go unnoticed. It will attract unwanted attention, and put you in danger. This will be the most dangerous part, waiting for you to mature. You are nearly there."

Will found himself sinking into a chair beside the table, his knees weaker than he wanted them to be. Hannibal had been repeating that same message for the last several weeks. The reason Will hadn’t seen his other half was because it was busy: fighting off would-be assassins and enemies that were trying to kill Will while they still had the chance. The battles, wherever they were, hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed by the town, either. People spoke about the animals being more restless than usual before winter. Will knew his dogs sure were.

He glanced out the window at them, enjoying their new pen out behind Hannibal’s house. Yappers was busy intimidating a squirrel. Biscuit and Pudge were gleefully chasing golden leaves as they fell from the branches above them. Teeth was happily gnawing on his favorite old bone. Arrow was lying curled up at the edge by the woods, one ever-watchful eye opened and trained on the trees. Will could see in his face that he sensed something was amiss.

“Tell me what’s troubling you, Will.” Hannibal said.

“I just…don’t know what’s going to happen. What’s going to change. I feel like I don’t know _anything_. I feel blind.”

“That’s because you are.”

Will glared, and Hannibal took it in stride.

“There is nothing that can be done about it.” Hannibal said, a hint of understanding in his voice. “But you will soon See.”

Will sighed with frustration. Hannibal put down the tools in his hands and stood beside him, tilting his chin up with a finger as he brought his lips down to brush over Will’s. Will melted into the kiss, forgetting his frustrations as he allowed himself to become lost in the warmth and confidence of Hannibal’s lips.

“Well, when you put it that way,” he said softly, “I feel very sure of myself.”

“Do you doubt we belong together?” Hannibal whispered.

“No.” Will said. “Not even a little.”

“Then let the rest be a mystery for now. It will come. Just be sure of this.” he said, pulling Will’s hands into his own, surrounding his fingers with his warm palms.

“I am.” Will said. “Very sure.”


	19. Chapter 19

The weather was absolutely perfect the day of their wedding. Will smiled to himself about the advantages of marrying an ancient forest spirit while Beverly fussed over his hair for the third time in one of the guest bedrooms of the Verger mansion.

“Bev, it’s _fine_.” he said, but she ignored him, pulling out a pair of scissors to snip some wayward strands, then moved to start trimming his beard again. She stepped back, crossed her arms, bit her lip, and nodded to herself. 

“There. Perfect.” she said. She grabbed Will’s arm and dragged him over to the full-length mirror, where he saw himself for the first time. He stared, unbelieving, at the man who looked back at him, dressed in a finely embroidered, high-collared blue silk suit and matching breeches, complete with silver buttons on the coat and sleeves. His hair was, indeed, perfect; every curl placed just so, making his normally unruly and wild hair look almost—civilized.

“The picture of beauty.” Beverly said, reaching over to the table to pick up the boutonniere made of a large, red rose. She pinned it to his jacket and stepped back, clasping her hands in front of herself, her eyes misting.

“My little Will, all grown-up and getting married.” she said, and he found himself blushing.

“Shut up, Mom.” he retorted, though secretly his heart glowed from Bev’s affections. She was the closest thing to actual family that he had, he supposed.

For the next hour, anyway.

Then he would be married.

There was a knock on the door, and Will heard Alana’s voice.

“Will, are you nearly ready? All the guests are seated.” she said.

“Alana, come in, come see!” Beverly shouted before Will had a chance to respond. The door creaked open to reveal Alana’s personal servant, followed by the woman herself, hobbling unsteadily forward on her new cane. The servant rushed to bring a chair to her and she sat on it near the door, and once that fuss was out of the way, allowed herself to look at Will.

“Well damn.” she said, a bright smile lifting her features. They hadn’t spoken much since the argument, but when they had it had been strictly about the wedding, and Will knew she was putting in every effort to mend their friendship. There was a sadness behind her eyes, but he also saw pride in them.

“You clean up very nice.” she said. “Bev, you did a great job.”

Beverly grinned with glee, and then the door opened again, revealing more servants.

“The ceremony is ready.” one of them announced, and then Will was being ushered out the door and down the hall towards the doors that led to the large west garden. As they approached he could hear the sound of a large crowd chatting, and violins playing a romantic melody that wafted over the air. They stopped at the grand double-doors, and the servants helped Alana step through them to take her seat.

He caught a glimpse of what looked like ten thousand roses through the crack before the door closed again. Beverly looped her arm through Will’s and he clasped it harder than he meant to. She was the only person in their bridal party, and Will had fought against even that. But Hannibal insisted that _someone_ had to give him away. He was literally leaving humanity to become something else, and that _had_ to be represented in the wedding. So Will had chosen Bev.

“It’s okay to be nervous.” she whispered. “But you’re going to make my arm fall off.”

He gave her a shaky smile and loosened his grip. Slightly.

The music stopped. The crowd hushed. A new song started. 

The doors opened, and Will was faced with the sight of every single person he knew rising to their feet for the express purpose of staring at him. They were arranged in rows, sitting in hundreds of perfectly matched, ornate wooden chairs set upon the red brick courtyard in the garden. The reds, golds, and oranges of the autumn foliage were accented perfectly by hundreds of bouquets of white flowers, many arranged in arches or set in planters around the guests. An actual red carpet paved the way for him from the doors down the aisle to the large arch of white roses, under which stood Hannibal, with Jack behind him.

Beyond that was the large, open riding field of the Verger Estate, the golden grasses swaying in the gentle breeze under a perfect sky, dotted with a few white, puffy clouds and a bright sun.

Bev started walking, and practically yanked Will out into the sunlight. The air was crisp and cool, perfect for all the layers he was wearing. The breeze gently blew past him, messing up his perfect curls, and Will’s eyes locked onto the person he was walking towards. He was dressed in an elaborate, gold-embroidered burgundy suit, even more formal than Will’s, his form rigid, his posture perfect. He looked stunning, and Will found himself letting his eyes rake over Hannibal’s form a few times as he drew closer. His eyes never left Will’s face, and for once, he allowed a smile to show on his lips in front of people other than Will.

They stopped two feet in front of him, and the music faded.

“Friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in the bonds of matrimony…” Jack started, but Will could hardly hear him. His eyes were lost to the pair that stared back at him. He felt Beverly give him a quick peck on his cheek, and then her arm was gone, but he no longer needed it to hold him up. Will stood as Jack droned on, his attention wholly occupied by the face that was _so_ enraptured with him, and for the first time, he _saw_.

Hannibal was in love with him.

It was the most ridiculous thing to realize, but until that moment, he hadn’t believed it. Now it was plain as day: the great spirit king, terrifying forest beast, was _in love_ with him, enamored with him, helpless to his emotions for him. His devotion hadn’t dwindled or wavered a _hair_ since they’d begun courting, and for the first time in his life, Will felt like he was worth something.

“Now hold the hands of your betrothed as you make your vows.” Jack said. Hannibal stepped forward and took Will’s hands in his.

At his touch, Will saw the now familiar flash of golden light that preceded a vision. The world changed from the beautiful autumn colors to stark greys, blacks, and whites. All the objects of the normal world faded into a single drab background, and among them, Will saw _thousands_.

He turned his head in shock, mouth hanging open, at the thousands and thousands of spirits that stood among the grasses in the field. They were of every size and shape: from tiny mouse-like things to enormous, towering nightmares that made the trees seem small. They had teeth, and white, glowing eyes, appendages and wings and tentacles. Some of them stood among the human guests as well, and Will turned to look at them, his mind frozen in awe at their placid demeanor. Every one of them stood at attention, silently watching. Among them he saw the glowing white silhouettes of Ravenstags, several spread among the crowd, each with its attention focused solely upon Hannibal and Will, as if this moment was indeed as important to all the spirit world as Hannibal had made it out to be.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the vision was gone. Will found himself seeing only a normal crowd of people again, all the colors of the world returned. 

Will’s eyes darted back to Hannibal in shock. The only answer he got was Hannibal’s glowing smile of joy.

“Will?” Jack said. Will blinked and turned to face the town mayor.

“Um, what?”

There was some jovial laughter from the crowd, and Will blushed.

“Do you accept Hannibal to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?”

Oh. Right. That.

That was a much, much longer time than Jack thought it was. Will shifted his eyes back to Hannibal and locked onto his gaze. He squeezed Hannibal’s hands tightly to show his sincerity.

“I do.” he said.

Jack repeated the question to Hannibal.

“Yes.” Hannibal said. “I do.”

Jack went on to ramble some more. Hannibal lifted Will’s hands up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to the back of his knuckles. His eyes were alight with joy, and Will only hoped his face returned half the sentiment. 

“You may kiss your husband.” Jack said. Hannibal didn’t hesitate. He swept Will into his arms and pressed a hungry, raunchy kiss to his lips. The crowd cheered and applauded and whistled, and Will opened for him, letting his tongue dive deep into his mouth, taking him, owning him. Forever. There was the sound of a giant rushing wind that crashed through the field beyond the garden, and Will knew their otherworldly guests were making a similar ruckus themselves. He couldn’t help but to blush fiercely under the presence of so many thousands of eyes. 

They pulled apart and the cheering continued. The violins started playing again, a more upbeat tune, and Hannibal led Will back up the aisle towards the house. Will glowed. It felt surreal.

The feast was everything Hannibal had promised, and more. There was a banquet table set with all the food he’d carefully crafted, and he and Hannibal were seated at the head, the guests of honor. 

Will was brought a sampling of every dish on the table, and he didn’t think he took more than one bite of the same thing twice. It was all exquisite, and he told Hannibal so, several times, in quiet whispers because everyone else thought he’d hired an army of chefs to do all the cooking.

“It’s amusing to you that they’re all eating bits of their neighbors, isn’t it?” Will whispered into his ear. Hannibal’s brighter smile was his only reply. Will rolled his eyes and nipped at his ear. “You are incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it.” Hannibal replied.

“And I love you for it.” Will responded.

When they returned to the courtyard for dancing, the flowers had been replaced by a thousand candles, lighting up the dusk in a way that would have seemed magical, had Will not experienced actual magic. Hannibal swept him into his arms as graceful as a courtesan of a high king, and they danced song after song after song, and Will found himself not caring, for once, about all the eyes that were on him, both the ones he could see and the ones he couldn’t.

Will felt himself melting into Hannibal’s touch. He moved their bodies close together, pressing into Hannibal’s warmth, wondering if he would return to feeling warm himself, after he’d finished his transformation. Normally his mind would obsess over all the different thoughts he had regarding it, but for now, for tonight, he let it all go and simply focused on the glow he felt from being in Hannibal’s arms. 

“The wedding is perfect, Hannibal.” he said, staring dreamily at the candles that flickered before his vision while he leaned his head on Hannibal’s shoulder.

“Thank you, darling.” Hannibal replied. “It is merely a pale reflection of my affection for you.”

“Tomorrow I’m going to roll my eyes at that.” Will said, lifting his head. “But for tonight, I’ll indulge you.”

Will leaned his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and gazed dreamily out into the crowd, most of the people now cheerfully tipsy and busy dancing, no longer paying quite as much attention to the grooms. He sighed with contentment, feeling the tension leave his body as Hannibal surrounded him with his arms.

A tap to his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie and Will whirled around with a snarl on his face, teeth bared.

“Not the reaction one normally expects from a groom at his own wedding, but then, there’s nothing typical about either of you.” Freddie said. “I was only asking if I could cut in.”

Will snarled again, unsure why his hackles were up, but trusting his beast to know that _something_ was wrong.

“Easy, darling.” Hannibal said, his fingers gently stroking through the hairs at the back of Will’s neck. “I can share you for a single dance. After all, you are mine for eternity, now.” he said, whispering in Will’s ear.

He leaned forward and kissed Will’s ear gently, then pulled away, his eyes burning with interest. Will almost protested, unsure why Hannibal would abandon him to _her_ , but then saw the intent in his eyes. They needed to know what Freddie had meant by calling them ‘not typical.’ If there was ever anyone in this town who could possibly know too much, it was her.

Will turned and lifted his hands, giving her a curt smile and a slight bow. She curtseyed in return and took his hands, and they danced across the floor for a few bars in silence.

“The two of you do make quite the pair, I must say.” she said, and he had to struggle not to crush her fingers with anger.

“What do you want?”

She laughed, tilting her head back with a festive giggle, seeming for all the world to be enjoying herself. Probably because she was.

“Straight to the point, aren’t you?”

Will’s glower left nothing to the imagination about how he truly felt.

“Oh, there _is_ something the two of you are hiding. And barely.” she said. “Your face is screaming at me right now to shut up—and I haven’t even said anything!”

“Freddie, over the course of your lifetime, you have said _plenty_ that would cause someone to want you to shut up.”

She grinned and tossed her red curls over her shoulder as she followed him in perfect step to the dance.

“Well, this time, it’s going to come at a price.”

He found his fingers clutching around hers tighter, so that he had the satisfaction of seeing her wince.

That didn’t deter her, however. She leaned in so that she whispered in his ear.

“It hasn’t escaped my attention that when Tobias’s Wendigo was killed, he was no longer to be found. Jack thinks he ran off, but I have another theory.”

Will tried his hardest not to react, but he knew now why she wanted to be so close to him when she revealed what she thought she knew. She was testing her words by the twitches in his fingers and the race of his pulse, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control either.

“I think that if you kill the curse, the cursed dies with it. Which means that if Hannibal is still alive, you didn’t kill anything in that forest. You wouldn’t, not if you’re in love with it.”

Will’s eyes darted over Freddie’s shoulder to seek Hannibal, and he saw him, standing at the side of the crowd, wine glass in hand. His stare was icy and emotionless, which meant he was hiding his more monstrous emotions.

Will latched onto that serenity and put it into his own demeanor. He pulled back so he could look into Freddie’s face.

“What do you want, Freddie?” he asked, his voice calmer than he’d expected.

“Oh, nothing much. I just know Hannibal must have quite a stash of treasure buried away, even after what he spent on the extravagance of this wedding. I just want a piece of it.” she said, flicking her eyes down over Will’s body in a way that made him very uncomfortable. “Something small, easily parted with for someone as rich as him.”

He could feel his teeth growing in his mouth, becoming fangs, ready to tear out her throat. He glanced over at Hannibal again to root himself, and he had an idea.

“Well, then I think we should include him in this conversation.” Will said. “Why don’t we go somewhere more…private?”

Her smirk was hideous.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Will gave her a curt nod.

“Meet me in the library on the third floor.” he said. “No one will be up there.”

They parted as the song ended, and Will walked towards his lover…his _husband_ , and together the two of them slipped around the corner of the house and in through the nearest door.

“What does she know?” Hannibal asked, as he followed Will up the stairs. Will grit his teeth, his feet stomping a bit too hard from his anger, unable to keep his steps quiet.

“Too much.” Will said. “But that isn’t why I want to tear her throat out.”

Hannibal didn’t reply, the gleam in his eye divulging that he was enjoying this situation just a little too much.

They reached the library and Will paced, low snarls coming from his mouth, which he tried to calm as he listened for footsteps on the stairs.

“What do you propose we do, my love?” Hannibal asked, his face amused and delighted at Will’s agitation.

“I’ve hated Freddie Lounds my entire life. The night I killed Mason to feed you? I was hoping it would be her to wander across my path. I can’t _stand_ that woman, she is a blight on the herd and I don’t want her in it!”

Hannibal’s eyes shone, enraptured.

Will spun and met his cheerful gaze with fiery eyes.

“Kill her with me.” Will said.

Will’s eyes followed the thick swallow down Hannibal’s throat, and he couldn’t help but be affected by it. A smirk ticked up at the corner of his lips.

“Does that arouse you, Hannibal?” he teased. Hannibal’s lips parted and his tongue darted out to lick the corner of his lips, and that was enough. Will’s heart beat faster, and when he heard the unmistakable clip-clop of Freddie’s boots on the stairs, the air between them grew electrified.

She walked into the room and stopped immediately at the threshold, the smirk on her face fading almost instantly as two wide, toothy grins turned to greet her. She moved to run, but Will let his beast free now, and it darted forward to grab her ankles. She fell to the floor face-first as he dragged her into the room and Hannibal slammed the door. 

Hannibal bent down and slid his fingers under Freddie’s arms, pulling her to her feet. He yanked her head up by her hair and she stared into his eyes, terrified but defiant. Will stood beside him and her eyes darted to his face.

“You’ve married a monster, Will.” she said, and he grinned, showing his extending teeth, long and pointy and sharp, growing from his mouth. Her eyes widened in horror and he brought his claws up to rake gently down her face, drawing only a trickle of blood.

“Oh. I know.” he said.

He locked eyes with Hannibal and together they lunged forward to bite into her throat, Hannibal’s human teeth tearing and Will’s monstrous teeth slicing her flesh. The taste was exquisite, the feel of her blood spraying across his face euphoria. He opened his eyes as savory red nectar dripped from his lashes to gaze into his lover’s face and they feasted, as if they hadn’t already been feasting all night, two beasts insatiable in their lust for blood and for each other.

Her body fell to the floor with a thud and their lips crashed together. Hannibal was unafraid of Will’s inhuman, razor-sharp teeth, his tongue darting along them to lap up the blood that dripped over the white surfaces, not bothered when they nicked him. Will’s tongue, much too long for a man, dove into Hannibal’s mouth and down his throat, where Hannibal groaned around it and swallowed, his esophagus stroking it with passion.

Will pulled back, eyes half-lidded, and lapped his tongue across Hannibal’s face.

“It’s been a lovely wedding day.” he said, his voice strange and inhuman, and yet so _right_. “But I think it’s time for our wedding night.”

Hannibal’s grin was eager and delighted. He swept Will up into his arms and kissed him again, his tongue lapping at the blood that coated his skin.

“It would be rude to leave without saying goodbye to our guests.” he said, and Will rolled his eyes, turning his gaze to the mangled corpse that they had just left on the floor.

“And this wasn’t rude?”

Hannibal growled softly and nipped his ear.

“We will say a proper goodbye to our guests.”

Will smiled and writhed his way out of Hannibal’s grasp, feeling his beast recede and his body change back to normal. He looked down at himself, drenched in blood.

“And how exactly are we going to do that?”

Hannibal’s face perked up at that.

“We have a matching change of clothes stored in Abigail’s room. I planned for just such an occurrence.”

Will gave Hannibal a loving, annoyed smile as he shook his head.

“Of course you did.”

* * *

They returned to dancing, though Will’s mood was entirely different now than it had been prior to their consuming Freddie. He found himself rushing the dance, taking steps a bit too fast, Hannibal’s firm arm guiding him to slow down and stay on tempo. A few giggles and blushing cheeks pointed their way as people guessed what the newly married couple had been up to while they were gone, and Will only hoped that they thought his trembling was from something so innocent, rather than brutally murdering one of their friends.

It wasn’t for another three songs that the scream rang out from a maid on the third floor of the house, so piercing that the music stopped and everyone turned to stare at the window the sound had come from.

Servants rushed into the house, along with Margot, while Alana sat with a frustrated look in a chair on the porch. The murmuring in the crowd grew slowly louder as the minutes ticked by and people waited to hear what had happened. Margot came bursting through the door and nearly fell into Alana’s arms, tears streaming down her face.

“Freddie Lounds was attacked by a beast!” she cried. “A wolf, or worse! One of those monsters from the forest, I just know it! The upstairs room is…destroyed…”

She sobbed into Alana’s shoulder, who pulled her arms tightly around her wife, stroking her fingers gently over her hair. Over Margot’s shoulder Alana’s eyes locked straight onto Will’s with an accusatory glare icy enough to chill his blood. 

“It seems your friend Alana has put together the pieces as well.” Hannibal whispered. Will whirled and gave him a hard stare.

“No harm comes to her.” he said sharply. Hannibal’s lips parted as if to argue, but Will cut him off.

“I don’t care.” Will said. “No harm comes to Alana or her family.”

Hannibal gave him a curt nod, his eyes serious.

“Yes, my love.” he said, with a sincerity so heavy that Will felt his heart swelling with Hannibal’s love for him. 

Alana rose to her feet and hobbled to the edge of the porch, Margot beside her, now a little more composed.

“Hannibal, Will.” she said. “This has been a lovely celebration of your marriage, and we do not wish to taint its memory with this tragedy. Therefore we are going to ask everyone to head home, now, while the festivities are still warm in your heart.”

Alana’s gaze was as strong as iron as she stared into Will’s face. He felt as if every drop of blood was still on him, completely exposed to her, and yet, he felt no shame. Instead he stood a bit taller, met her gaze right back, and smacked his lips with a tongue that was just a little too long to be human.

She set her jaw tightly and turned away from him to face her wife. Beside him, he felt Hannibal clasp his fingers.

“No. Harm.” he repeated, and Hannibal leaned to whisper into his ear.

“I promise.” he said softly. “No harm to Alana or her family.”

The guests began leaving, most of them doing their best to say goodbye to the newly married couple with as much cheer as they could muster. Hannibal gracefully shook every hand and accepted every apology as if it were the first one he’d heard, while Will stood stoically beside him, doing his best just to keep it together, not showing his teeth when he smiled for fear that they might show as a bit too pointed. He was hungry, and thirsty, and it was only his love for Hannibal that made him keep up this charade. If Hannibal would not kill Alana at his request, then he would say goodbye to the guests properly for him.

When the last guest had finally left, Alana made her way carefully down the path to them, her cane clanking on the bricks as she walked.

“Hannibal. Will.” she said, her face grim. When she neared them she forced a smile onto it, her servant hovering just behind her elbow, ready to catch her if she fell.

“I apologize that your wedding was so abruptly and gruesomely ended.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Verger.” Hannibal said, his tone far too jovial for a man who had just had his wedding interrupted by a dead body. “You provided us with a glorious backdrop to exchange our sacred vows . It was a lovely time.”

Alana glared at him with steely eyes. She suspected him, there was no doubt, though without any proof to her accusation she graciously kept her mouth pressed closed. Then she turned to Will, who was doing his best not to tremble as he struggled to keep his beast from emerging.

“I hope you know who you’ve bound yourself to.” she said, her eyes reflecting her sadness. Will forced a smile onto his face, consciously keeping his lips closed, making the expression even more awkward than it might have been. “I do.” he managed.

Her face was stone, then, and she took a step back. She regarded them both once more with an icy gaze, all semblance of a fake smile gone from her face.

“Enjoy your new life together.” she said.

She turned her back to them and walked back up towards the house, and Will felt a small part of him mourn for the loss of his old life.

Then he turned and saw the light in Hannibal’s eyes, and his heart ignited with a new fire that consumed anything else that had come before it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all porn (it is their wedding night, after all).
> 
> Tags that apply to this chapter: Monsterfucking, blood, blood drinking, flesh eating, threesome, double penetration, tentacle porn. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Alana had generously loaned her best carriage to the newly-married couple, and Will gave a grateful sigh as the door of it closed, sealing him and Hannibal off from the rest of the world. He sat forward on the edge of the seat and rested his forehead in his hands, his entire body trembling as his beast desired to be _free_.

He felt Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder and looked up into his eyes.

“Just a few more moments, my love, and then you may shine in all your true beauty before me.”

Will reached out and clasped Hannibal’s hand, his own hand cold and clammy against Hannibal’s steady, warm skin. The carriage ride seemed to take forever. When they finally arrived at Hannibal’s door, Will left Hannibal to handle saying goodbye to the driver and scurried inside their home, rushing to the bedroom.

He heard the front door close and lock, and with a great sigh he unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it to the floor, then knelt to begin untying his shoes.

Hannibal appeared in the doorway and Will stood to face him with wild, hungry eyes.

“Finally.” Will said. “You are _mine_.”

He lunged forward, crashing Hannibal’s back hard against the wall, roughly pressing their lips together. Hannibal eagerly returned the kiss, which was as much teeth as it was lips, both tongues emerging to lick and to suck and to bite.

They tore at each other’s clothes, neither being careful, until their gorgeous silk suits from the wedding lay in torn heaps on the floor. Hannibal pushed Will back towards the bed where he fell with a gleeful snarl, his voice already gravelly and rough, his fingertips already sharp and long.

“Show me.” Hannibal growled. “Show me your desire, Will.”

Will rolled so that he was on top of Hannibal and dragged his lips down his neck, licking his skin with his too-long tongue as he went. He felt Hannibal shudder beneath him and he grinned, heat rising to his cheeks as he saw the effect he had on his lover.

He licked further down, below where Hannibal had washed in Alana’s house, licking flecks of Freddie’s blood from his skin. Hannibal’s palms pressed tightly to Will’s back, his chin rising upward with a sigh as Will licked his way across his chest, first teasing one nipple, then the other. Will sucked one into his mouth and gave a playful bite, which made Hannibal curl his fingers and dig his nails into Will’s skin.

Will inhaled sharply with lust, his own fingers raking down Hannibal’s sides, drawing blood from his skin, just as he had done to Freddie.

“You were glorious to behold.” Hannibal whispered, as Will kissed his way further down his body, licking Hannibal’s blood from the scratches he had just made, impatient and yet not able to rush as he wanted to lick every flake of blood off of Hannibal’s skin. It tasted _so_ good.

“As were you.” Will whispered, licking his way down to the tip of Hannibal’s cock and sucking it into his mouth.

Hannibal keened, his fingers wrapping themselves tightly in Will’s hair.

“Mmmm.” Will said, his pulse racing as he tasted Hannibal’s flavor, inhaling deeply before sucking him down. His fingers clasped his hips tightly, pricks of blood escaping where his nails were too sharp, and Hannibal’s only reaction was to give a soft, needy moan.

Will pulled his way up and then sucked down again, bobbing his head shamelessly, his tongue wrapping around Hannibal’s shaft with hungry want. The whimpers he was drawing out of his lover made him sound like nothing more than a helpless man, completely surrendered and defenseless to whatever Will wanted to do to him. Will felt him swell in his mouth and his fingers tighten in his hair, and he pulled off slowly with a final lick across the tip, leaving Hannibal wrecked and sighing below him.

Will moved his hands to between Hannibal’s thighs and pushed them apart. He opened eagerly, and Will dragged his tongue hungrily between them, pushing his tongue between his cheeks. He tasted his lover for the first time, delighted at how Hannibal jumped at the touch of his tongue. Will’s heart pounded with desire as he licked and pushed his tongue in, Hannibal’s soft twitches and sweet mewls driving him to push more, more, more. He moaned as he felt his body growing hot with anticipation, his cock swelling with lust.

He lifted a finger to press it into Hannibal, but saw just how sharp his claws truly were. He hesitated and raised his head to look Hannibal in the eyes with a question.

“Here.” Hannibal whispered, lowering his own hand between his legs to press into himself. “Together.”

Will closed his eyes with need and dove back in with his tongue, pushing it in alongside Hannibal’s fingers, wetting him as they both spread him open, together. He felt the oil as Hannibal poured it on himself, and tasted it as it slipped along his tongue. He didn’t wretch, and smiled as he realized that _of course_ it was laced with human blood, as was everything in Hannibal’s household, even the water.

“Who is it?” he whispered, licking his way up Hannibal’s fingers and across his palm, drinking in the flavor.

“Cassie Boyle.” he said, a mischievous smirk on his face as Will raised an eyebrow. “My first gift to you.”

Will rushed up Hannibal’s body to crash their lips together. He kissed and kissed and kissed, heart racing with love and desire and affection. Hannibal parted his legs so that Will fell between them, their cocks brushing together. Hannibal reached down to clasp Will in his fingers and stroked him. He gave a cry from how good it felt, his hips automatically rocking forward to get more, until he was swollen and leaking onto Hannibal’s stomach.

His eyes fluttered open and he caught Hannibal’s gaze.

“I am waiting for you, my love.”

Will shifted his hips lower, letting Hannibal’s hand guide him until he pressed up against his hole. He felt his heat even before he pushed in, and then it enveloped him, drawing him in, deeper, deeper. His eyes rolled back in his head as he was surrounded by Hannibal on every side, taken in, swallowed whole. His vision swam and he pushed in further, hearing Hannibal’s soft gasps, enticing him, encouraging him.

When he felt his balls press up against his ass he stopped, his eyes open to just slits, just enough to see the euphoria on Hannibal’s face. He moved his hands to clasp Will’s ass and pull him in even deeper, his knees spread wide, his entire body welcoming him, beckoning him closer.

Will started to rock. They both moaned softly, each of their voices echoing the other as their bodies moved to work together. With each push in Will felt lust springing from his veins, heating his blood, rushing to every part of him. He rose up onto his hands and knees, putting his palms on Hannibal’s shoulders, and thrust.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Will cried as pleasure sprang through him, singing all the way to his brain. Hannibal’s cry was even less coherent, nothing more than a delighted wail, followed by a soft beg for more. Will gave more. He thrust and thrust and thrust, his hips moving to pound deep and hard into his lover, his efforts rewarded with delicious passion that sprang through him with every push. His muscles worked hard to drive them both to pleasure, Hannibal’s body moving in turn, both of them eager to reach their mutual goal. With every thrust the heat built within him, until the pressure rose to the top and burst over the edge.

“Hannibal!” Will cried, his back arching as his orgasm overtook him and he poured his pleasure into his lover, his husband, his mate. 

Will collapsed on top of him, panting and trembling. He felt Hannibal’s arms wrap tightly around his back, one hand stroking through his hair as Hannibal held him close. He brought a hand up to wipe sweat from his eyes, and saw that it was drenched in blood.

He rose onto his knees, slipping out of Hannibal as he did so, to see red, everywhere. The worst part of it seemed to be at Hannibal’s hips, where four deep puncture wounds oozed on each side. Will opened his mouth to apologize when he saw the wounds begin to close, healing as he watched. His eyes darted up to Hannibal’s face where he saw nothing but enraptured desire.

“Beautiful.” Hannibal said, his voice low and gravelly. The wind outside seemed to echo him, longer and deeper, so hard it rattled the window. Will’s eyes darted to it, then he felt Hannibal’s hand on his cheek and looked down at him.

“Are you just outside?” Will asked, and knew from Hannibal’s smitten eyes that the answer was yes. “Be with me, Hannibal.” he said. “Don’t stay away.”

Hannibal looked as if he was drowning in affection, his eyelids dropping to nearly closed as he stroked Wil’s cheek with his fingers. The window rattled harder and then flew open, one of the panes breaking as it slammed into the wall, the glass shattering as it fell to the ground. 

Thick, black tendrils snaked their way in as a gust of wind accompanied them, bringing with them the cold of the winter. Will did not shiver, his entire body was heat and fire as he watched his lover slither over the threshold of the windowsill and form in the room with them, the shadows swirling together until they grew into the shape of a beast. The bottom of the shadow split until they formed two legs, and long arms grew out from the torso. The head rose up last, the antlers sprouting from the top, branching until they raked across the ceiling, flecks of wood raining down onto the floor. 

Then the Wendigo opened its shining white eyes, and Will was drawn. He turned from Hannibal’s human form and met his other one, their bodies coming together truly for the first time. Long tendrils and two arms wrapped around him, pulling him tightly to the Wendigo, his naked skin pressing against its blackness. Will leaned his lips up in expectation for a kiss. Though the Wendigo was much smaller than his usual form he still towered over Will, and had to bend his lithe neck far for their lips to reach.

Will felt him, hot and cold, wispy and solid, vulnerable and strong. Their lips pressed together and Will moaned, and the wind sighed. A thick, black tongue snaked into his mouth and down his throat, and he answered it with his own, which was just as long and unnatural. As their mouths intertwined Will raised his hands to stroke his lover’s face, feeling his features and smiling as he felt that they were _exactly_ like Hannibal’s. 

As their kisses devoured each other he slid his hands up further, tracing them up along the antlers as far as he could reach, feeling them for the first time. His skin prickled with excitement and his blood began to rush, his body growing eager for sex once more. 

Black tendrils wrapped around him as they had so many times before, though this time Will looked up into the face of the beast as he was touched. Blackness slithered around his arms and legs, entwining in his fingers which he curled to hold his lover’s wispy essence against his palms. Tendrils snaked around his arms and up his neck, gently stroking his face and tangling through his hair. They encircled his ankles and twisted their way up his thighs, Will’s pulse beating faster as they gently began to stroke over his growing cock, while the ones near his lips teased them open to push into his mouth.

Will moaned softly as his entire body was entwined and explored and caressed. The tendrils lifted him until he was touching nothing at all but the Wendigo, no floor, no bed, no clothes. All he could see, all he could feel, was his lover and nothing else. He gazed into the white light of the monster’s eyes as he felt, deeply, just how enraptured with him the Wendigo was. The wisps around his cock began to stroke him, heat blooming up his spine as it did so. His head fell back as he moaned, his skin tingling with heat as he felt the Wendigo’s tendrils snake their way up between his legs. Without much warning they plunged into him, cold and warm, soft but powerful, tender but needy. Will cried out and when he did the tendrils by his mouth pushed in, stroking his tongue as he groaned and licked them back, tasting them, inviting them deeper.

Will felt himself being spread open, his legs pulled wider apart as he lifted his arms towards the Wendigo’s face. It came to him when he beckoned, and he wrapped his hands around the base of its antlers, pulling it near. Its mouth crushed itself against Will’s lips, its own tendrils wisping back into its skin, until Will felt a much more solid tongue dive into his mouth at the same time it pushed into his ass. He groaned as he was slowly worked open, every inch of his body stroked and tasted and held. 

Then he was gently lowered to the bed, where he felt the heat of Hannibal’s human body beneath him. His back was pressed against Hannibal’s chest, his very human hands lifting up to stroke along his cheeks, his shoulders, his arms. The tendrils that were pushing into him grew harder and rougher, spreading Will open wider and wider, making him pant and groan as his eyes rolled back in his head. Will’s body was covered in blackness, the tendrils that were wrapped around his skin growing needy and sharp, trickles of blood rushing down his sides. Hannibal caught them with his fingers and brought them to his tongue, moaning softly as he tasted Will’s blood.

The beast pushed Will’s chin up roughly with a palm and pressed it’s lips to his neck, its tongue flicking out to taste him. He shivered as it growled, long and low, the wind outside echoing its voice. A hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke him along with the snakelike wisp, and then another hand, and then a third. Will groaned helplessly as heat swelled between his legs. He then felt Hannibal’s lips on the other side of his neck, both sides of him being devoured and licked and tasted.

Hannibal’s warm cock slid down the cleft of his ass until it pressed up against the wisps the Wendigo was plunging into him. Then he heard a low, deep, animalistic growl. The Wendigo’s hands reached out to wrap around his knees, its sharp claws causing pinpricks of blood to rush from under his skin. It pressed forward, and a hard, very solid black cock pushed up against his hole, right beside Hannibal’s. Both of them stilled, and the Wendigo looked directly at him and waited.

“Oh.” he whispered softly. “ _Yes_.”

Hannibal pushed into him first. The wispy tendrils that the Wendigo had in him vanished, leaving him only with the feeling of Hannibal sliding in and out of him, gently but deeply. He moaned as he felt stretched open, his head falling back against Hannibal’s shoulder where his neck was greeted with kisses and his hair was stroked with affection.

The Wendigo did not move, but kept its cock pressed against him where Hannibal was pushing in and out. He felt wetness, thick and warm, and glanced down to see what looked like blood, but was thick and black, dripping from the Wendigo’s cock and down his thigh. It was the same substance that had once leaked from his nose the day he’d refused to kill Beverly. Now Will was going to take it into himself in another way, and this time, he knew he would reject none of it.

Then without preamble, Hannibal pulled out and the Wendigo pressed him in one deep, long slide. He cried out, his head lolling to the side as his eyes fluttered open and closed, his blood rushing with lust as he was stretched and filled even deeper and wider than Hannibal had been.

The Wendigo was far more impatient than Hannibal. The moment it was pushed all the way in it started to fuck him, hard. Will keened as his body sang, both pain and pleasure intertwined together, wrapped in buzzing heat that tingled his skin and burned his veins. He felt Hannibal behind him, his chest pressing hard against his back, their breathing ragged and thick together, making up for the Wendigo’s lack of any breath at all.

Its claws sank into Will’s knees, rivers of blood dripping down his legs now. All he felt was pleasure and heat, his cheeks and skin burning with lust as he gazed up into its needy eyes. On its face he _saw_ its need, its desire of him, unhinged and lustful as it drove itself up into his flesh, his body taken, his body given. Will groaned and let his eyes close, leaving himself only to feel, the Wendigo’s claws around his knees, Hannibal’s hands stroking through his hair and over his stomach, Hannibal’s lips on his neck pressing gentle kisses.

Will groaned with pleasure as he felt himself building slowly towards another climax, the heat piling up in his balls making his cock swell hard and purple. He arched his back to try to get the Wendigo deeper into him, and when instead it slowed and nearly stopped, he complained with a desperate whine.

“Shhh.” Hannibal whispered. “Patience will have its reward.”

Will felt Hannibal’s human cock press up against his hole right alongside the Wendigo’s, which was still buried deep within him. His panting grew heavier and thicker as he realized what they wanted.

“Yes, yes, oh, _yes_.” he said, his voice airy, little more than breath. Hannibal pushed into him without hesitation. Will cried out from the stretch, his heart hammering in his ears, lust burning in his balls and straight up into his cock. It was swollen and purple now, leaking with want, which only grew harder as Hannibal slid into him, squeezing in beside the Wendigo until he was utterly, completely filled. Tears sprang to Will’s eyes from the stretch and his heart pounded with desire as both of his lovers took him at the same time.

Then they both moved. 

“Ahhh!” Will cried as he felt the Wendigo slam into him with the brute force of an animal. When it pulled out Hannibal came to fill the space, each one taking their turn, in perfect synchrony so that he was always being filled, his body glowing with heat and passion. He felt Hannibal’s breaths on his cheek as he was fucked, and saw the Wendigo’s glowing white eyes bore into him with desire. They truly moved as one, their rhythm impeccably perfect, one then the other, beast, man, beast, man, beast, man.

Will’s pleasure rose and rose, and he fought it, because he did not want this to end. His previous release allowed him to hold out, his voice crying for more from both of his monsters. His vision came in flashes as he could barely keep his eyes open, but in it he saw his own claws reaching for his monster, raking across it’s black shoulders as he pulled it close. He saw his golden marks, the ones he had given it before, and tore at them to make them more, more, everything had to be more.

His own skin was becoming shredded from the Wendigo, it’s teeth on his neck and it’s claws on his flanks, his blood dripping down to the sheets to soak the bed. Hannibal’s hands clasped his hips just as viciously, the three of them scrabbling to keep hold of each other, each desperate to be close, none caring what damage might be done. There were three beasts in the bed; all were claws, teeth, and snarls, cries of passion and screams of ecstasy as they each sought their pleasure from each other.

The Wendigo’s tongue lapped across Will’s skin, licking up his blood and giving soft, needy purrs as it swallowed it down. Hannibal’s teeth sunk into Will’s shoulder, his bite growing deeper with each thrust, until he was sucking Will’s blood into his mouth and drinking it with desirous moans. Will cried with ecstasy as he was pounded into, snarling as his claws raked across the Wendigo’s body, every fiber of his being crying out to bring it closer to him.

Hannibal and the Wendigo both tilted their heads back to scream towards the ceiling as they released into Will, one the voice of a man, the other the screech of the wind. Will felt them pouring into him, felt their essence slipping out of him as it was too much. All three hands on his cock gave him one last stroke and he convulsed, his vision swimming as pulses of lust burned through his body, spilling onto the Wendigo as he shuddered. Every part of him rattled; his teeth, his brain, his bones. His claws sank into the Wendigo’s flesh and he leaned forward, planting a deep bite into its neck, needing to taste it, needing to _have_ it.

He felt an enormous, clawed hand wrap around the back of his head and hold him there.

“Eat.” the Wendigo said. With a rush of need and want, Will sank his teeth in deeper, feeling the black flesh filling his mouth as he finished the bite and tore a chunk of it into his mouth. He pulled back and looked into its eyes, his mouth full of black flesh. He chewed it, groaning at the delicious flavor, and with a finality that he knew meant far more than their human wedding ever would, he swallowed.

“Beautiful.” both Hannibals whispered. The wind outside howled, and both Hannibals moved to kiss him, warm human breath on his lips and cold, monstrous teeth on his neck. Exhausted, Will collapsed backward and Hannibal caught him, where he lay them both down upon the bed. The Wendigo followed, its kisses unceasing across Will’s skin, while Hannibal lovingly stroked him with his fingers, planting more kisses across his face and chin. 

Together the three beasts rested upon the bed, Will nestled between them, his head resting on Hannibal’s shoulder as he stroked his face, and his ass pressed into the Wendigo as it stroked his hip. They kissed him and stroked him with more affection than he’d ever imagined possible, and he tried to return it, lifting up his fingers to gently touch Hannibal’s face. Fatigue came for him and he could no longer fight it, and instead became content to be petted by his lovers as he buried his face into the soft bed. The wind outside died down to a gentle whisper, and in utter bliss and exhaustion, Will fell asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

The rain poured over the roof and spilled out of the gutters in loud splashes that left divots in the mud beside the house. The chill of autumn crept into the bedroom through the broken window, though Will felt perfectly comfortable in it, curled on the bed with both parts of his husband surrounding him. The Wendigo was stretched along his back, its volatile form molded to his spine and curved under his ass, its claws and teeth tangled in his hair. Hannibal’s human form faced his chest, Will’s head resting on his arm, Will’s nose pressed into his neck, their knees interlocked. While the Wendigo body did not sleep, it rested, watching over the human forms, all of them contented and comfortable on a mattress coated in their own dried blood and bodily fluids.

There was a creak, and all six eyes opened simultaneously, though not a single other body part moved.

“Dr. Lecter?” a voice called out, someone from the village, though Will had trouble placing him. It was someone he knew, but not very well. Whoever it was continued his intrusion, his footsteps bringing him closer to the door where the three monsters lay.

“I am in my bedroom, Mr. Brown.” Hannibal said, not moving either of his bodies whatsoever, except to brush his fingertips affectionately along Will’s cheek. 

“Dr. Lecter!” he called from the main room. Now Will remembered where he knew him from; it was Mathew Brown, Dr. Chilton’s apprentice. His footsteps approached the door to the bedroom and he spoke as he pushed it open. “Thank goodness I found you! There was a terrible attack of wild beasts; several people are hurt, more than Dr. Chilton can care for at once, and he sent me to ask for your hel…”

His voice cut off as he came completely into the room and took in the sight before him. His eyes grew wide with horror as they darted from Hannibal’s bloodied body, to Will’s, to the blackness of the Wendigo behind him, then to the bed, then to the floor, stained with drips of blood. He looked down at his own feet and saw the footprints he’d made in the blood, then raised his face again with shock to see Hannibal now standing beside him. Neither Will nor the Wendigo moved.

“My dear, you are standing in a place where you do not belong.” Hannibal said. Matthew turned to run, and smacked his face on the Wendigo, which was now instantly behind him. It grinned, showing its ragged, long teeth, and he had plenty of time to scream as it bit into his shoulder, tearing through layers of clothes with ease, while Hannibal sunk his teeth into his neck. Together they ate him, his blood spraying across the room and over their faces, and Will watched with enamored affection, utterly lost in the beauty that was Hannibal attacking his prey.

When enough of Matthew had been eaten that he stopped screaming, the Wendigo offered Will a piece of him with a bloody, outstretched hand. He smiled with half-lidded eyes and leaned forward, pulling the meat into his mouth from the black palm, savoring it, tasting it.

“It’s delicious raw, Hannibal.” he said. “Though it’s delicious when you cook it, too.”

They both purred and returned to their lover, letting the half-eaten corpse fall to the floor with a thud. They surrounded him on the bed, affectionate licks cleaning the drops of fresh Matthew from his skin. 

“Good morning, my husband.” Hannibal said, moving his lips to press them sweetly against Will’s mouth.

“Good morning.” Will replied, blushing a bit at the new word. Behind him, the Wendigo purred.

“As much as I’d prefer to lie with you forever,” Hannibal said, “I do believe we should investigate this situation Matthew spoke of. I have left our kingdom unguarded, and there is no telling what may have wandered in.”

Will nodded with a sigh, and felt the Wendigo behind him begin to change shape and drift towards the window.

“Wait.” he said, rolling over to face it, and he saw it stop, its body half-unformed, black slithers and wisps curling in the air in front of him. Will sat up and tilted his face towards those glowing eyes, and felt his lips get captured in a lingering caress that could best be described as a kiss, if it could be described at all.

Then it pulled away and Will sank back into Hannibal’s flesh and blood arms, and together they watched the shadows snake their way through the broken pane in the window and out into the rain.

* * *

They were soaked the moment they stepped out into the rain. Will could feel that it was cold, but it didn’t bother him. He saw shapes and shadows moving in the haze of the water, heard splashes and the sounds of animal voices: growls and laughter and screeches coming from things he couldn’t really see.

“It’s so noisy.” Will said, pulling the sleeves of his coat down to hide Hannibal chuckled beside him.

“You are beginning to hear the spirits that have always surrounded this village. The closer you come to your hatching, the clearer your senses will become.”

Will stared out into the shadows of the trees that lined the road, his eyes trying to grasp the shadows that moved and make shapes of them, but they were elusive. 

“Soon, love. Soon you will be able to See.” Hannibal said. He slid his fingers down Will’s arm to clasp his hand, and Will returned the gesture, wrapping their fingers together.

“How will we explain that Matthew isn’t with us?” he asked, still amazed that the townspeople had been hunted and eaten for hundreds of years, and so few had ever noticed. Garret had noticed, Will realized, now seeing that moment in an entirely different light. It still didn’t change any of the actions he would have taken. In fact it solidified them in his mind as the absolutely correct path to take.

“Matthew fell and injured himself while he ran to fetch me for help.” Hannibal explained. “His leg is broken, but I have tended to him and he is resting comfortably in my home. Later he will die of infection.”  
Will leaned his head against Hannibal’s shoulder affectionately, his heart glowing warm with how well-practiced Hannibal was at keeping his livestock calm. His eyes fell to the medical bag that was slung over Hannibal’s other shoulder, within it the precious bottle of stag’s blood, half-empty.

“What do you expect we will find?” he asked.

“From the reports I am getting, carnage.” he said. “I’ve discovered unwelcome tracks from the west and I’m following them. I’m hoping my fears are unfounded.”

Will tensed, and Hannibal felt it, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t want to deal with anything that even _you_ fear.” he whispered.

“Trust me, my love. Neither do I.”

They arrived to a village of chaos. Over twenty people were crowded around or near Chilton’s house, trying to peer in the windows even though he had the curtains drawn. There were sounds of sobbing and wails, parents soothing children, spouses soothing each other. Jack was in the midst of it, barking orders, trying to get people to back away. The moment someone saw Hannibal the crowd rushed to meet him, begging him to save their loved ones.

“I will do my best.” he said reassuringly, attempting to step through the crowd. Will felt his skin crawl as the people encroached around them.

“Everyone back away and let them through!” Jack’s voice reverberated over the din, and to Will’s relief, they listened. He gave Jack a grateful glance, perhaps for the first time in his life. The man knew how to be in charge.

They stepped through the door and closed it quickly behind them.

“Lock it, please.” Chilton said, and Hannibal calmly lowered the latch with a click. Will’s eyes darted quickly over the carnage, taking in the disaster that was Chilton’s home. Eleven people lay sprawled out, some on beds, some on the floor, all with limbs torn off, faces mauled, bodies mutilated. Some were hastily bandaged or had tourniquets tied to try to stave the bleeding. Some were clearly dead. Some groaned in agony. Chilton himself was covered in blood up to his elbows and down his front, his fingers shaking as he worked to stitch a stump where Abel Gideon once had a leg.

“Thank you for coming so quickly.” Chilton said, his voice sounding as tired as he looked. “Is Matthew with you?”

Will listened to Hannibal’s explanation of Matthew’s whereabouts with adoration. He was so charismatic, so convincing. Chilton didn’t even hesitate to believe him.

Hannibal set his bag down and immediately got to work. He rolled up his sleeves- the bite marks from last night already healed and faded- and selected a patient who looked more likely to survive. Franklyn, Will recalled, a man who he didn’t know well. His body was covered in deep lacerations, clearly left by claws and teeth, but he had no missing limbs. Will didn’t want to think about what it was that could have done this. It wasn’t wolves or bears.

Hannibal got to work, pulling out bandages and the bottle of stag’s blood. He dabbled a bit of it onto a cloth and started to swab the worst of Franklyn’s wounds, which began to close immediately. Chilton was too busy and Franklyn was too far gone for either of them to notice. Will stayed out of the way, watching the two doctors work silently and hastily, save for a few sentences exchanged involving medical questions. 

After an hour, Hannibal turned to Will, blood now covering his own arms up to his elbows.

“Will. I am running low on medicine.” he said, holding out the bottle that had contained stag’s blood to him. Will looked into his eyes and took it, holding his breath as he waited for the rest of the sentence, even as he knew it was coming. “Would you please fetch me more? I’d get it myself, but I am…quite occupied at the moment.”

Their eyes locked, and in them he knew Hannibal could see his uncertainty. Ravenstag blood was only healing if it was freely given. How was he supposed to even find, forget convince, a stag to let him have a bottleful of its blood?

“You are perfectly suited to this task.” he said. “I have full faith in you.”

Will clasped the bottle firmly and took it, Hannibal releasing his grip with a sincere nod. 

“You can exit through the back door.” Chilton said, his voice exhausted, his eyes not leaving the patient in front of him. “To avoid the crowd.”

Hannibal leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Will’s cheek for encouragement. He then turned and left, carefully stepping around the dying patients, most of whom had fallen silent by now.

* * *

Will’s boots crunched over the thin layer of snow as he entered the Southern Forest. When the rain stopped and turned to flurries, he was able to listen better to the world around him. He could hear the rustle of shadows beside him as he walked, some tending to their own tasks, some keeping pace with him. He recalled how Hannibal had declared him protected to a mass of unnamable creatures, though trying to tell himself they were friendly didn’t quell his uneasiness at being followed by things he could only see out of the corner of his eye. 

The snow fell thicker and grew deeper, up to the tops of his feet now as he walked, and he wondered exactly how he was supposed to go about this. He’d never actually _sought_ a Ravenstag before; they had always just come at appropriate times, always aware of the happenings in Hannibal’s forest, reacting as they saw fit.

He heard an eerie, unfamiliar growl and snapped his head to the right, his eyes darting amongst the thick tree trunks, trying to discern the sound. The shadows that traveled with him stopped, all nearby eyes focused in the same direction. He heard it again, a sound that wasn’t right; high-pitched and yet soft and low. It chilled him to his bones.

Will tucked the empty bottle into his pocket to free his hands, and willed his claws to grow. His hands turned dark, dark grey, nearly black, and his nails becoming long razors. He felt the world shimmering around him, everything just beyond his vision, just beyond his reach. He closed his eyes and imagined the yellow light Hannibal always summoned when making him See. It swung before his eyes and when he opened them, he _Saw_.

A hideous beast, like an enormous lizard with molten red skin, but larger than a bear, stood amongst the trees, growling at Will. Its teeth were bared, the drool that dripped from its maw causing the snow to hiss when it fell to the ground as it melted from the heat. Its eyes burned bright red and it stared directly into Will, challenging him. It growled, and he snarled back, followed by the voices of the black beasts who stood beside him, three of them, two with claws, one with wings, all with teeth.

It lunged and Will sprang. Its breath was scorching hot against Will’s face as its teeth reached for his eyes. He plunged his claws into its shoulders and it howled, drops of its drool so hot they burned holes in his sleeves where they landed. Its blood gushed out over Will’s hands and he yanked his right claws free to draw them under the beast’s throat. It snapped and writhed, twisting its body free of him, snapping off one of his claws as it fell to the snow. Will cried out in pain but wasn’t slowed from charging again, raising his claws to protect his face as the beast lunged at him with its teeth once more.

The shadow-beasts beside him attacked it, two leaping upon its back, the third grabbing its lizard-like tail in its mouth and yanking it down, hard. The red beast screamed and fell to the snow, its own claws lashing out at them, flinging one of Will’s defenders off of itself and into the trunk of a tree. The movement left its belly exposed, lying on its back, and Will lunged at the joint between its foreleg and shoulder. His claws sliced through sinew and muscle, a clean cut, quick enough that he could pull away before the burning teeth had a chance to bite him. 

The lizard-beast inhaled, its chest expanding to an unnatural size, and Will’s own defender leapt off of it to tackle Will to the ground. He didn’t understand and felt a momentary flicker of betrayal, before a spout of flame leapt from the beast’s mouth at the air where Will had been. He looked up into his rescuer’s white eyes to thank it, before they both lunged back at their adversary.

The thing with wings had taken the chance to plunge a talon into the lizards’s throat. It screeched as its foot was burned away, but the damage was done. The lizard snarled and sputtered, flames and burning saliva pouring from its throat, a puddle of fire surrounding it for a few inches before it was quenched by the snow. Finally, the raging enemy stilled, its red body smoldering in the snow, steam rising from around it where it lay. 

Will stood above it, chest heaving as he panted, his own breath creating steam in the cold air as he exhaled. Blood dripped from his nine claws, and he looked at his three comrades, one now lacking a foot, one with scratches on its face, one unconscious under a tree. He stumbled towards the last, his vision wavering as his strength failed him. The pendulum swung, and all he saw vanished from his vision.

He fell to the snow on his knees beside where he knew his helper lay. 

“I’m sorry.” he said, reaching out a bloodied, four-fingered hand to brush over it. He could still feel it, even though he saw nothing. 

He heard a gentle snort behind him, and turned to see a Ravenstag, towering in the snow above him. 

“Please.” he said. “Help us.”

It regarded him for a long moment, its breath warm and sweet, washing over Will’s face as it stood, unmoving. Will pressed his good hand against the trunk of the tree and unsteadily rose to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain of his missing finger. He had meant to say something, but the moment he rose to his full height, the Ravenstag began to lower its head. It took a long moment for the giant beast’s face to reach the ground, but when it did so, and then stilled, Will realized it was bowing. Out of respect.

When he didn’t move, it snorted and tilted its head to the side, exposing its throat to him. Will stumbled forward, not at all feeling like the regal prince he was supposed to be, fumbling for the bottle from his pocket with his bleeding, four-fingered . He reached the stag’s throat and paused for a moment, unsure what to do.

Then he bit his lower lip in concentration, and extended a single claw. He watched it grow from his finger on his right hand, at his command, long and thick and razor-sharp, as black as night. It curved, not like the straight claws of Hannibal’s Wendigo form at all, and he wondered again what form the rest of him was going to take when he finally hatched.

Carefully, he lifted his claw to the stag’s throat and nicked it. The blood trickled out and he held up the bottle, the life-giving substance filling the small vessel quickly. When it was full he took his human fingers and pinched the skin closed, and the stag held still while it waited for the wound to clot. Then it backed away from him and rose, shaking its enormous head, splotches of red falling onto the snow and Will’s face.

“Thank you.” he said. His answer was a thick snort, and then the stag turned and walked off slowly, vanishing into the falling snow.

Will quickly tipped the bottle to his hand where he had lost his finger. He heard the sound of cracking bone and fell to his knees from the pain, setting the bottle down carefully in the snow, so as not to spill it. He watched with amazed eyes as his finger grew back, returning to him exactly as it had been, with every hair and birthmark in place; even with the small scar he’d gotten as a boy when a fishing hook had been caught in his knuckle.

The pain faded, and Will held his hand up with fascination, studying it, until he heard a soft clink and saw the bottle move.

“Take what you need, but not a drop more.” he said. He heard the soft sound of a tongue licking the glass, and the gentle sigh of the forest around him as his subjects were healed. When he heard all three of them standing beside him again, he corked the bottle and rose.

“Thank you.” he said. “I won’t forget this.”

He turned and hurried out of the forest, back to Hannibal, and hoped he returned in time to save at least some of the villagers.

When Will opened the back door to Chilton’s house, his nostrils flared at the delicious scent of blood. It was powerful and appetizing. His mouth watered. He reminded himself that he’d just eaten breakfast not two hours ago, and he was trying to _save_ these people. 

Though there was no use in wasting the meat of the ones who’d already died. He was certain Hannibal would have a way of getting their bodies.

He stepped into the front room and saw that it was absolutely drenched in blood, far more than when he’d left. Chilton was hunched over another patient now, a sewn-up Abel resting on a blanket on the floor, as all the beds were full. Both work tables were soaked with blood, the wood sodden with it, long drips stretching to the floor. Hannibal looked up, his entire form drenched, his eyes locking onto Will as he entered, following his gaze down to a dead woman who lay by the door as he subconsciously licked his lips.

“My love, you have returned.” Hannibal said, deep relief evident in his voice. “I had feared the beasts that did this had harmed you.”

His worry broke Will out of his hungry gaze. He tore his eyes away from the food and looked at his husband instead. He crossed the room and stood beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in reassurance.

“I ran into one, but was able to fight it off, with some loyal help.” he said softly, so that Chilton wouldn’t hear. “But I obtained what you sent me for.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle, extending it to Hannibal, who lifted two blood-drenched hands out of the open chest of Peter Bernadone, one of the Verger’s stable hands.

“I knew I could count on you.” Hannibal said, adoration in his eyes as he leaned forward to give Will a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Would you pour it on a cloth for me? I’m afraid I will need you to assist.”

Will nodded and did so, glancing down to see what Hannibal was doing. His hands were around Peter’s heart, gently massaging it, keeping it beating. 

“Now a drop, right here.” Hannibal said. Will tipped the bottle with shaking fingers, careful not to spill the precious liquid. A single drop fell and landed on Peter’s heart, which immediately started beating in a strong and regular rhythm. Will looked up at his head, then; it was smashed in on one side.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the tools here, nor the time, to repair that properly. The best way would be to cut open his skull and pour the medicine directly on the brain. But a drop on the lips should do something.” Hannibal said. “He’ll live, though he might not be the same.”

Will felt a bit of pity towards Peter, but no actual sadness. The same way he’d feel for an injured sheep, he realized, and it wasn’t that different from how he’d always felt.

He did as he was asked, tipping the bottle once again, letting a drop fall onto Peter’s lips. Hannibal then began pulling his chest back together, first the ribs, then the skin. He asked Will to wipe the cloth with the medicine over the wounds as he went, and he did so, watching with fascination as they sealed nearly instantly wherever he touched the bones and skin.

Then Peter took a deep inhale and coughed. His eyes blinked and he started to sit up.

“Peter, you’ve been injured. I need you to lie still.” Hannibal said, and Will didn’t know why it surprised him that Hannibal knew his name. He probably knew everyone’s name, from the day they were born until the day they were eaten.

Peter nodded, and his eyes darted over to Will. He gave him a soft smile.

“It was a beautiful wedding.” he said. Will tried to force himself to smile back. He wasn’t sure how it came off.

“He can probably walk.” Hannibal said. “Can you get him to that chair in the corner?”

Will nodded, and bent down so Peter’s arm could wrap over his shoulders. He guided him to the chair, helped him sit, and then helped Hannibal lift the next one onto the operating table.

It took hours. The sun was long set when the last person had been helped to the best of the doctors’ abilities (or in Hannibal’s case, to what he could reasonably accomplish without revealing his methods). Chilton didn’t even have the strength to remain on his feet, but when Hannibal graciously offered to spend the night to help him tend to patients, he refused, saying that Matthew couldn’t be left alone in his condition.

They allowed only one person into Chilton’s home, which was Jack. They gave him the report of who was alive and who was not, and let him handle the giving of the news to the worried loved ones outside.

“I’m starting to see why you keep Jack around.” Will said as they walked down the road towards their house. Hannibal gave him a slick smile.

“If I recall, you were the one who requested I keep him alive.”

Will jabbed him in the shoulders with his elbow.

“I had _just learned_ that you were _you_ when I asked that. No fair bringing that up.”

Hannibal gave him a teasing smile and Will was about to kiss it off his face when he straightened and his expression fell serious.

“Hannibal?” Will asked, pausing on the road, his breath fogging in the chilly autumn air. He watched Hannibal’s features change from concerned to worried, his eyebrows furrowing as much as they ever did, and waited patiently for him to explain.

“Describe to me the creature that attacked you, Will.” Hannibal said, his voice soft and full of concern.

Will nodded and did his best, describing the red, scaly skin, the long lizard tail, the acid-hot drool and burst of fire breath. He showed Hannibal the burn holes in the sleeve of his coat, though he wasn’t sure he saw them, his eyes glassy as his mind seemed to be concentrating more on his other body’s experience than usual.

His eyes snapped back to Will’s face, his expression urgent.

“It is as I feared.” he said, the slightest hint of a waver in his voice as he spoke. “My greatest enemy has chosen this time to attack. He is building his forces, testing the walls of my protection against my kingdom. These few are merely scouts; weak fighters but quick, able to send messages about the situation back to their king. I am confident I will be able to prevent all of their escape, for now. But there will be more.”

Will swallowed down his nerves, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Who?” he whispered. Hannibal turned to look at Will, his face frozen in place, wearing the mask he used to hide his more volatile emotions, which Will knew now meant he was afraid.

“The Great Red Dragon.”

The words hung in the air like the silence after a powerful spell was cast. Will’s brow furrowed with worry.

“Dragons are real?” he whispered quietly.

“Oh, yes. Quite. And they are as powerful as you’d expect.”

Will’s memory flashed back to the beast he had fought. Four-on-one, and they had barely killed it. In fact he’d be maimed right now, if it weren’t for the Ravenstag. They all would be.

“What do we do?” he asked softly. Hannibal’s eyes darted over the tops of the trees, tracing along the sky, almost as if he expected to see an enormous winged beast dive out of it and swallow them up right then.

“First, we go home.” he said. “Our house is well protected.”

He turned and started walking briskly, and Will hurried along at his side, until he could see the warm glow from the windows of their house, all the lamps already lit even though they were not yet home.

When they entered, Hannibal insisted on them eating dinner first, before any discussion was had. 

“We must keep up our strength.” he explained, and Will didn’t argue, not used to seeing him so rattled. They ate in silence, which alone was unusual and did little to calm Will’s nerves. Only after the dishes were washed, the leftovers stored, and the fire properly stoked in the living room did Hannibal begin speaking again. They sat in the armchairs that faced the fire, diagonal to each other, no wine poured, no romance tonight.

“When I was very young,” Hannibal began, and Will had not expected _any_ story to begin that way; he had never thought of Hannibal as having once been young, though he supposed he must have been. “Young enough that the word ‘child’ might be accurate to describe me, I had a hatchmate.” he said, staring into the fire with wistful eyes, his mind leaving the room and traveling back over hundreds of years to enter a long-buried memory.

“Hatched from the same clutch of eggs as I. Normally my kind have several, but I had only she. We knew not what happened to our parents. Died before we hatched, we always assumed.”

Will found his brow furrowing in concentration as his mind tried to follow a story that, to him, seemed as realistic as a fairy tale.

“Her name was Mischa. My sister.”

In his voice, Will could hear Hannibal’s pain. Even after an amount of time passing that he could not even fathom, the loss of her still affected him, at least when he chose to think about it.

“Of course, any young predator has to fight to claim territory for itself. And we did, and we succeeded. We had a small little kingdom; simple and uncultured, but we were happy.”

Will already knew this story did not have a happy ending, and his frown was deep as he watched his lover describe his ancient pain.

“Mischa and I had barely reached the age where we were old enough to desire a mate. I had no interest in one- but she fell in love with a farm boy.”

Will tilted his head to the side, frowning as he tried to understand. Hannibal saw his confusion and paused in his story, lifting a hand to tenderly cup Will’s cheek.

“Our kind takes a human mate, and transforms them into one of us, as I am doing for you.” Hannibal said softly. Will lifted his eyes to meet Hannibal’s gaze, and in them he saw the depth of Hannibal’s love. “It has always been our way. It is why our flesh halves take the form of humans.”

Will turned his face to the side to press gentle kisses to Hannibal’s palm, and knew he was stalling, because the memory was too painful.

“Finish the story, my love.” Will said softly. Hannibal nodded and pulled his hand away, taking a deep breath and sitting up straight.

“The Great Red Dragon was already called by that name. No one has ever bested him, not even other dragons. He decided he would like Mischa’s beau for a snack.”

Will wanted to reach out a hand to comfort him, but Hannibal’s eyes were glassy and his expression so lost Will wasn’t certain he should be disturbed, so he remained still and listened.

“Naturally, she fought the Dragon viciously to defend her love. I joined her in battle against him, but he bested her. When he killed her, I had nothing left to lose, and nothing to fear. I attacked with reckless, blind rage. It was during that battle that I came into my own. Learned the nature of my true ruthlessness. I not only kept him at bay; I won. I damaged his human face with my human hands, as I damaged his Dragon’s snout with my Wendigo’s claws. I gave him a permanent scar on his lip. He wears the mark of my victory against him upon both his faces. He has since kept his distance, but I know he has been waiting for a moment when I am weak. A moment to take his revenge.”

Hannibal’s eyes re-focused and he turned them from the fire to look at Will, instead.

“We are an even match, Will. Our battles over the centuries have always ended in a draw. Our armies are equally deadly, our soldiers equally loyal. He knows that with you, fully hatched and by my side, that will no longer be true. This is his last attempt to best me, before you join me and our power becomes far greater than his.”

Will could feel the tension in Hannibal’s body thickening the air in the room, and found his voice cracking when he spoke his next sentence.

“You don’t believe you are an even match any longer.” Will said, tilting his head downward to look at his own hands. “Because now you have something to lose.”

He felt Hannibal’s hands cupping his face before his mind even registered that he’d risen from his chair. He tilted Will’s eyes to look up at him, his gaze a burning fire.

“I will defend you to my last breath. I will die to keep you safe.”

Will’s expression hardened and he rose to his feet, covering Hannibal’s hands with his palms.

“I will do the same for you, Hannibal.” he said. “Don’t count me out yet. I defeated one of them, today.” he saw Hannibal try to open his mouth to argue, and cut him off. “You said that so far, not one of his scouts has escaped to return news to him, right?”

Hannibal nodded, tilting his head a bit as he tried to follow Will’s line of logic.

“Will he attack without any knowledge of what he’s getting himself into?”

Hannibal gave his head the barest shake.

“Most likely not.”

“Then we can still buy time.” Will said. “We can defend our kingdom for now by simply making certain that not one of his scouts returns to him.”

Hannibal gave a quick nod.

“That will buy time, yes.”

Will tightened his fingers around Hannibal’s hands.

“Hannibal.” he said, and the beast looked into his prince’s eyes, where he let his fear show, and opened himself to listening. “How long until I hatch?”

Hannibal’s eyes reflected the firelight, the shadows flickering across his chiseled face.

“Not long. A week or two.”

“Is there a way to rush it?”

He saw Hannibal set his jaw harshly, and in his expression already knew the answer.

“Don’t you dare lie to me.” Will said. Hannibal tensed his jaw further.

“Yes.” he said. “But it is extremely dangerous. You could easily die.”

Will heard the pain and fear in Hannibal’s voice when he said it.

“Then let us buy time.” he said. “We’ll fight the scouts together. Not let a single one return to the Dragon, until I am ready.”

Hannibal’s hands, still cupping Will’s face, tightened and drew him close. Will leaned into the kiss, trying to put as much reassurance into it as he possibly could, wishing there was anything more he could do to help with the situation.

Hannibal pulled away, his resolve solidified.

“You have always been brilliant, Will. It’s an excellent plan.” he said. “We will start tomorrow. Tonight, let us rest, and build our strength. This body is exhausted from tending to the herd all day, and my other one has things under control, for now.”

They indeed turned to bed, although it was a while before they rested. Their lovemaking was a bit more desperate than usual, and they fell asleep clinging tightly in each other's arms.


	22. Chapter 22

Will raised his head above his shoulders as he stood on all fours in the snow. His breath clouded the air before him as he tracked his enemy, easily walking on four limbs as his arms were now too long for a man, black and muscular with sharp, deadly claws extending and retracting as he walked, anxious for a fight. He followed the tracks in the snow, which remained pristine as Hannibal had ceased to let fresh snow fall in order to preserve them. It still took him a great amount of energy to See, so he avoided it until the last moment, relying instead upon his hearing, his instincts as a hunter, and his allies in the shadows.

For the past week they had hunted and killed as many as ten of the Dragon’s scouts. The Wendigo wandered tirelessly, all the shadows of the forest on high alert, every ear and eye that was loyal to them ready to announce the slightest whisper of unwelcome disturbance. Hannibal’s human body and Will took turns in shifts; one sleeping while the other patrolled. 

Will paused as he neared the top of a hill, aware that cresting it would make him easily seen and vulnerable to attack. Instead he listened, the forest around him growing silent as he stood still, the watchful eyes of his protectors taking their direction from him.

He heard the soft snap of a branch to the left, then another, softer and further away. He felt tiny claws climb up his shoulder and heard a whisper from a small thing, still unseen to him. 

“It recedes north.” it said, and he nodded once, turning back to travel along the hill northward, using it as cover to remain hidden.

He slinked along the edge of the hill until it flattened out, then continued along a northward path until he picked up the trail again, eyes focused into the depth of the trees ahead of him. Round disks of ice lined the sides of the trail he followed, places where the beast’s drool had dripped and melted the snow, only to refreeze after it passed by. He saw it again, up ahead, and quickly hid behind a patch of brambles. He needn’t worry about the wind giving his scent away, Hannibal had also done away with that. The entire forest stood eerily still and silent.

Will was now ready. He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and let the pendulum fall. The amber light swung through his vision and when he opened them, he could See. He had three Warrior Things by his side, as he’d come to call the beasts who had helped him and Hannibal fight Pazzi’s rabble. There were also two Winged Things, most akin to some kind of bird of prey, though they were enormous in comparison, their talons sharp and deadly enough to fell a tree in one kick, should they desire. And an entire clutch of Tiny Things, probably the spirits of mice or squirrels, not much good for fighting, but excellent for distraction and gathering intelligence.

He looked down at the one who had whispered to him and nodded. It knew the plan. Will was ready. 

The Tiny Things scurried off, each as silent as the next, shadows darting over the snow, not stirring a single flake of it. They vanished up the trunks of the trees, and a moment later, started snapping branches.

The sounds caught the attention of the red lizard and it turned its head towards them, away from Will and his soldiers. It bared its teeth in a threatening manner, its head darting to the right and left, following the sounds of the snapping branches. Will slithered silently from behind the brambles, his allies beside him, all of them well-practiced at this now.

They were nearly upon their enemy when it finally noticed them. The moment it stiffened, Will leapt with a growl and attacked, his claws unsheathing and extending towards its neck. It rolled, directly into the waiting teeth of a Warrior, who bit into its flesh fearlessly, even knowing what that could do to it. Fire sprang forth from the wounds, searing off the Warrior’s teeth, and it tossed its head, the chunk of flesh flying through the air to crash against a tree. 

The lizard screamed, the sound of its voice causing the normal squirrels and birds to flee, having been none the wiser to anything until that moment. Will took the opportunity to slash his claws up and across the lizard’s throat. He knew to be quick and had himself withdrawn before the fire rolled down the pouring blood, his hands now covered in it, burning with heat but not permanently damaged. 

The lizard swung its body around, its tail swinging until it whacked Will in the head. He fell and rolled, landing instinctually on his feet without thinking about it, though his vision swam and his balance faltered. He saw his other allies attack, each taking a chunk from their enemy, most of them quick enough to evade being burned, though not all.

The scout then inflated its chest, and they all ran. Will felt talons under his armpits and he was lifted and flown away faster than he could run, then tossed down into a deep snowbank as fire crackled and seared the trees above him. Flames burst forth from the trunks, sizzling as the snow on the branches melted and doused it, though not enough to put it out. Hazy smoke filled the air, clouding the red beast until it was only a grey silhouette.

Will knew that now was the time to attack. These scouts were indeed weak. A breath of fire wore them out, and he leapt forward across the melted and re-frozen ground, the sound of crackling ice beneath his feet reminding him of being too far out on the lake ice-fishing when it became too warm. His adrenaline rushed and he leaped with a snarl, his claws plunging into the enemy’s throat, its blood cooled to a bearable temperature now that it had released its flames.

Blood spewed forth and it writhed, then stilled, its body falling with a muted thud into the snow. Will rose onto his hind legs and stood at his full stature as a man, raised his head to the sky, and howled with triumph. His allies did the same, the sounds of their voices echoing far over the snow, and the message of their victory was sent through the voices of the creatures to Hannibal’s ears.

* * *

Once a day, they walked into town for Hannibal to check on the progress of his patients. On the second day he delivered the news to Dr. Chilton that Matthew had succumbed to infection from his broken leg and had died. The doctor nodded once, face solemn, too exhausted for any further reaction. Will tried to feel sorry for him, then realized that the piece of food he’d just sucked from in between his teeth was from Matthew. He stopped trying to force himself to feel things, and let his emotions be as they wanted.

Peter was nearly well. He was walking and eating, though his speech was stilted and broken. Hannibal had been right, he wasn’t quite the same as before. His eyes remained kind, however, and when Dr. Chilton asked them if they would escort him home, Will happily agreed. A servant was sent to the Verger Estates to fetch a carriage, and when it arrived Hannibal and Will helped Peter up into it, as he was still very weak.

“Never got to sit inside one before unless I was repairing it.” he said, a shy smile on his face. Will found his heart growing warmer the longer he talked with the man. Will and Hannibal sat across from him, their fingers intertwined, while they listened to Peter chatter on during the ride, mostly about horses.

When they arrived at the Verger’s servant quarters, they helped him to his bed and Hannibal gave instructions about his care to the head housemaid. As they stepped out of the servants’ quarters and headed back towards the main road they passed by Alana, sitting in a flowerbed, tending to her roses to prepare them for winter. She looked up and her eyes locked with Will’s over the shrubs, her gaze glassy and frozen, yet not able to quite hide the pain behind her eyes.

Will’s throat tightened. He turned away and kept walking.

“Will.”

Her voice was as strong and cold as stone. He stopped. Hannibal paused beside him, and together they turned to face her. She put her hand out and her personal servant grabbed her arm, helping her as she wobbled to her feet.

She stood, her eyes locking to Will’s for a long moment, her pain growing more apparent the longer he looked.

“Might I speak with him alone, Hannibal?” she asked. He gave her a curt nod and placed a quick peck on Will’s cheek.

“I’ll wait for you in town, my love.” he said, and headed down the road.

Will took a single step towards her, then stopped. She stood as still as a statue, though her grip on her servant’s arm was tight.

“I know you know what happened to those people who were attacked, Will.” she said, bluntly cutting to the chase, as usual.

He didn’t reply.

“Just be honest with me, please.” she said. “You didn’t kill the Wendigo.”

He remained silent, which he knew, for Alana, was the same as any admission.

“Why?” she asked, a bit of her pain cracking in her voice, her concern for him showing through. His heart ached to see her so torn. He wished there was anything he could do about it.

“Why pretend that I did?” he asked. “Or why didn’t I kill it?”

He watched her eyes dart back and forth as she processed that; processed his unspoken admission that he _could_ have killed it, and chose not to.

Her eyes eventually settled on Hannibal’s back as he walked farther down the road, nearly out of sight, now. Her brow furrowed and he watched the pieces click in place; watched her make the connections Freddie had made only a week before.

Finally, her gaze returned to him, etched with worry.

“You are disappearing inside of him, Will.” she said. “I hardly recognize you anymore.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. While he knew what she said was painful for her to say, the words were beautiful for him to hear. His heart shone as his becoming was growing more apparent, enough so that Alana could see it.

“I know.” he finally replied, trying his best to keep his face as serene as Hannibal, for fear of revealing his happiness.

He watched her face sadden.

“I’ve already lost you, haven’t I?”

He nodded softly.

“Yes.”

She turned her face to the side, then, and he saw her eyes water.

“You are still welcome in this house.” she said. “For Abigail’s sake. But I do not believe we are friends anymore.”

He set his jaw as his heart felt her pain. It wasn’t _his_ pain, however; it was merely a reflection of the fact that he cared about her. He was entirely happy with the life he was heading into, and Alana’s sadness wasn’t enough to make him regret even a drop of it.

“I’m sorry, Alana.” he said. “You still matter to me.”

“But not enough.” she said, raising her head, though the action made her tremble.

“No. Not enough.”

Two tears slipped down her face, and no more.

“Goodbye, Will.” she said.

“Goodbye,

* * *

Will awoke to a tongue on his neck, affectionately lapping over his throat and up under his chin. He smiled, opening his sleepy eyes to the sight of his beloved as he crawled into the bed, Hannibal’s body still covered in the blood of their enemies. They did not wash it off; they wore it as a trophy of their victories, and as a sign to those who would fight them that they were to be doomed. Will liked it; liked the flavor, though it wasn’t nearly as delicious as human blood tasted, nor was it nourishing. He rolled over and pulled Hannibal into his arms, returning his affectionate licks, tasting the freshness of his triumph.

“I miss the other part of you.” Will purred, rolling until he was on top of Hannibal, kissing his lips down his neck.

“I miss you as well, my prince.” Hannibal cooed. He reached up a hand to stroke it through Will’s blood-caked hair. “But our desires must be set aside for the necessity of survival.”

“I know.” he said, leaning down to press a proper kiss to Hannibal’s lips. 

“I am entrenched in a battle at this very moment, in fact.” he said. “And busy once again putting out forest fires.”

Will sighed with exhaustion, even though he was the one who had just awoken. Unbroken days of constant fighting were beginning to take their toll. His muscles ached, and eating human flesh only did so much to replenish him.

The wind rattled the window and they both turned their heads to see the shadow of a Tiny Thing slip down the wall and into their bed.

“Forgive me, Your Majesties.” it whispered, its voice sounding to Will like little more than shifts in the air, mostly consonants, a sound easy to miss if he wasn’t listening for it. “But one is heading toward the village.” 

Hannibal moved to rise, but Will put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the bed.

“I’ve just finished sleeping. It’s your turn to rest.”

He could see Hannibal’s argument forming before he even opened his mouth, and pushed him harder onto the bed with a cold glare.

“This is not up for discussion. We agreed no one fights to exhaustion, or else we become vulnerable.”

With reluctance, Hannibal lay back down in the bed, though he remained tense. Will rose to his feet, his fingers transforming before he was even at the door.

“I shall not sleep until you return to me.” Hannibal said. 

“I’ll return quickly.” Will replied, and was gone, his movements nearly as fast and nearly as silent as the shadows whom he fought alongside.

He followed the Tiny Thing as it led him quickly, racing through the underbrush of the western woods along the tree line just beyond the village. No Dragon scout had gotten this close to the herd before, and Will felt himself hasten with concern. He might prefer to keep himself distanced from humanity, but he still cared about their overall welfare.

Will saw his enemy as he approached the outskirts of a farm. He hung back, remaining hidden in the shadows of the forest, not willing to step out into the sunlight and risk being seen. It was early yet, the fog not quite burned away from over the wheat crops, but there was little cover out in the field where the enemy now slinked.

Will realized, as he watched, that his adversary was hunting. It must have been incredibly weak with hunger, which explained why it was near the village. He saw one of the herd walking amongst the wheat, a straw hat tied over her head, singing softly to herself as she plucked ripened heads of grain and placed them in a basket. The best strategy would be to wait until the enemy was feeding, then to attack while it was distracted and its guard was down.

She began her song again, and Will paused as he recognized it. It was familiar. He knew the melody. His heart swelled with irrational emotion as he realized that he knew this one. That he _cared_ about this one. He saw the scout coil its back, ready to strike, and acted.

He leaped out into the field with a thunderous growl, plowing into the shoulders of the Dragon’s minion with the full force of his body. The woman screamed and ran towards the forest, presumably to hide, which was a much smarter move than darting further into the openness of the field.

Will wrestled with the beast at close range, ducking his head away from its teeth, trying to keep his face from being burned. They rolled and he wound up under it on his back, his legs pinned and useless as it stood upon his ankles with its hind feet. It spat at him, its drool landing on his shoulder and burning through his shirt, then his skin, making him cry out. He plunged the claws of his left hand into the side of its maw, uncaring about the acidic drool that poured over his claws, shortening all five of them while he screamed in pain. The beast howled even louder, however, the side of its face sliced open. Will slashed up again and again, snapping his teeth, and felt the beast’s weakness from hunger as he was able to overpower it and shove it to the side.

He snarled and attacked, pushing it to the ground beneath him. He felt its chest starting to expand and knew he had little time to act before it set the entire field aflame. Confident in Hannibal’s ability to heal him, he drove the claws from both his hands deep into its throat and sliced. Blood fountained up into the air and rained down upon Will as the beast gurgled, the acidic heat of its drool searing away his claws, which he knew were his fingers. He howled in agony while it writhed beneath him and he collapsed beside it, panting heavily. He shut his eyes tightly from the pain and allowed himself a moment to feel it, his body shivering from the intensity.

Then the beast stilled, and Will knew he had to move. The more time he spent with Hannibal, the more he understood how essential it was that the humans not know the truth about the world around them. They needed to be happy, and feel safe and secure, in order to breed and keep up the population, or Hannibal and Will would have nothing to feed from.

He flipped the carcass onto its stomach and sank his long teeth into the back of its neck, dragging it as he walked on his knuckles and feet, leaving a trail of blood. Once he got it to the forest his servants would be able to help him move it further. He’d gotten just a few yards inside the tree line when he heard a desperate whimper and stopped. His eyes rose up to meet the woman’s, and he finally remembered her name.

Molly.

Molly Foster. Molly who he had once thought he was in love with, for a brief summer; who had been his very first kiss; who had once braided a crown of daisies and set it upon his head.

_That_ was why he had been so moved by her song. Because he knew it so well; had listened to her hum it as children while they sat in school; had listened to her sing it to her newborn baby Walter. He dropped the carcass from his teeth, its blood still dripping from his body, obscuring his vision. He opened his mouth to speak, but then saw the depth of her terror. He realized she did not recognize him. He looked down at his black arms, his bloodied claws, licked at his sharp teeth, and wondered what he looked like. It was obviously nothing at all resembling Will Graham.

He raised his eyes to her and chose a new course of action. He pulled back his lips and snarled, a low, menacing growl. He circled around so that he was between her and the deeper part of the forest, and snapped his teeth. She ran, back into the field, heading for her house as fast as she could, probably to get her musket. Good. She should be prepared to protect herself, and she should be nowhere near the forest.

Will leaned down and clasped his teeth around the carcass once again, and dragged it deeper with growing exhaustion, until finally he was deep enough into the shadows that his servants felt safe enough to emerge and help him. He gratefully let it fall into their claws and collapsed, exhausted, into the fallen leaves, shivering from the pain in his fingers and shoulder. 

It wasn’t long at all before the Wendigo was beside him, the black form of his nightmarish body no lighter in the daylight. He scooped Will up tenderly into his arms and whispered soft things to him as he carried him quickly home, depositing him safely in their bed, where Hannibal was already prepared with a cloth dabbled in Ravenstag blood. The Wendigo form vanished as quickly as it had come, still entrenched in defending their lands itself, the moments it had spent rescuing Will probably costing them the lives of several warriors.

“I’m sorry.” Will tried to say, blood sputtering from his mouth as he spoke. He was human again, with teeth missing from biting the acidic lizard, a gaping hole in his shoulder, and his fingers all missing from the second knuckle up.

“Shhh. You defended us bravely.” Hannibal said, tending to his wounds quickly. “Suck.” he commanded, pressing the cloth to Will’s lips. He obeyed, and shut his eyes tightly as his fingers and teeth re-grew. Hannibal clutched him, resting his head in his lap as he healed. When he was recovered from his injuries he lay still, worn out and exhausted.

“There are getting to be too many of them, aren’t there?” Will asked, his voice full of breath as he spoke. Hannibal didn’t reply, he only continued to stroke his fingers through Will’s hair until he started to relax. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he awoke he was alone in their bed, sun high in the sky as Hannibal returned to the forest to finish Will’s shift.


	23. Chapter 23

The onslaught became nonstop. The Dragon sent scouts in greater and greater numbers, in the hopes that eventually one would slip through and be able to return to him with reconnaissance information about the state of Hannibal’s army. Or perhaps he was trying to wear them down, little by little, sapping their energy and picking off their forces so that when he finally attacked, they would be too weak to withstand him. Hannibal and Will became exhausted, never having enough time to rest, hardly sleeping, hardly seeing each other. 

Then it happened. Hannibal’s Wendigo body had been at the furthest southern end of their realm, hunting down a pack of three of them, when two more entered from the north-west. Hannibal and Will dispatched together to take care of them. Both scouts attacked Will at once, quicker than Hannibal’s human body in its exhausted state could react, and one successfully got its teeth sunk into Will’s throat. He tried to scream, but air only whistled from the puncture wounds in his neck as it burned. Hannibal roared and tore the beast from Will with his bare hands, tossing it with violent rage into a tree where they heard its back break, and it fell still.

Hannibal dove into the snow to tend to Will, wrapping his hands tightly around his neck, while he allowed the other scout to escape. His Wendigo form raced across the forest, reaching them within a single minute, and picked Will’s limp body into its arms and rushed towards their home. 

Will awoke in their bed, Hannibal’s human face hovering with concern over him, the bottle of Ravenstag blood still held to his lips.

“Drink again.”

Will struggled, coughing, but managed to get another swallow down. He felt the wounds on his throat close up, and breathed in a deep, clean gasp of air.

“One got away.” Will croaked, his throat still raw.

“I am aware.” Hannibal replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching a thumb to stroke Will’s cheek and check his eyes.

“I’m okay.”

Hannibal’s face looked haunted. His eyes had bags under them, his skin was pale. Will didn’t even want to know how his own face must have looked.

“We can’t keep this up much longer.” Will said.

“It does not matter.” Hannibal said. “The scout saw your vulnerability and escaped. The Dragon will not be long, now.”

Will raised his eyes to meet Hannibal’s, the unspoken urgency clear in them.

“How long until he arrives?”

Hannibal’s jaw was rigid. His eyes were full of emotion.

“Tomorrow, perhaps. Or the day after.”

“We have less than a day, then.” Will said, reaching up to cover the hand Hannibal had on his cheek, keeping their gazes locked.

“Yes.” Hannibal said, and in his wrist Will could feel his pulse racing faster. Will held his gaze and leaned in closer, summoning all his strength to make his voice as steady and confident as possible.

“Help me hatch now, Hannibal. We can’t wait for me to do it naturally anymore.”

Hannibal leaned in until their foreheads were nearly touching and swallowed before speaking, an action that Will had never known him to do before.

“I suppose we no longer have a choice.”

Will tipped his lips forward and pressed them to Hannibal’s in a gentle, sweet kiss, knowing that it could not possibly convey everything he felt.

“Tell me what to do.” he said softly.

Hannibal rose from the bed, his hand falling away from Will’s face. He turned his back to Will and when he spoke, his voice shook.

“Go to the place where I showed you our kingdom.” he said. “You will find a cave. It is within the most protected part of our lands. You will be safest there.”

“Aren’t…you going to come with me?”

“I have something I need to attend to.” he said. “I will meet you there.”

Will nodded, wishing Hannibal would turn around, doing his best to keep his own nerves from getting the best of him.

“You don’t think I’ll survive.” he said.

Hannibal tilted his head downward, partially looking over his shoulder, though not far enough to make eye contact with Will.

“It is a highly dangerous undertaking, to force a hatching.” he said. “Which is why I am making preparations and taking every precaution I can think of. Please, Will. Go. I shall meet you there when it is time.”  
Will rose and moved to face Hannibal, who only turned his back to him again. When he saw the glint of a tear splash to the floor, he understood the reason. Instead, he placed his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Know that I’ve spent every moment of my life since I met you, with you, and that there was no other road I would have taken.”

He kissed Hannibal just behind his ear and then left, exiting their house by the back door to head towards the woods. On his way he passed his dog pen, and paused to scratch each one on the head.

“On the small chance I don’t return.” he said. “But I’m feeling strong today, what do you guys think?”

Arrow looked at him quizzically, clearly aware that something important was going on, and gave him a small “woof” and a nose-nuzzle.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he said, giving him one more scratch, and then he stepped from their yard into the edge of the forest, where the last of the autumn leaves clung to the trees and the first breath of winter curled its way through their branches.

* * *

Will’s footsteps crunched over the dried leaves as he walked to the edges of Hannibal’s forest. The dusting of snow at the edge didn’t seem all that much out of place, now, with how cold the air had gotten. In a week or two, winter would arrive in the village, and the edge between Hannibal’s forest and the natural one would be blurred. Will wondered if he would live to see it.

The sound of feet scurried about him as he walked deeper into the snow, the familiar sound of his soldiers guarding him as he walked. He heard their whispers and saw glimpses of their shadows, the beasts and monsters of fairy-tales and nightmares that provided him comfort and protection. 

“Hannibal is worried I won’t survive.” he said, knowing he needn’t explain what he was talking about. They were always listening and rumors spread quickly amongst the shadows of their realm. “What do you think?”

He heard a chorus of replies, some doubtful, others more certain. There seemed to be no consensus. He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing else, and eventually their voices fell silent.

The trees grew thicker and the sky grew black. He recognized the way, the light around him growing weaker as he went until it seemed that all was blackness. Wanting to preserve his energy, he waited until he was completely blind to let the pendulum fall. The amber light crossed over his vision and the forest was lit to him once again; ashen trees, ancient and still, leafless in their permanent winter, against a backdrop of blackness.

He saw his comrades, those who had fought in battle beside him, but no one else. All was silent. The weaker ones were hiding, he realized. 

He saw ahead of him a rock outcropping that led up to a cliff above, where a row of ancient pine trees stood. He headed towards it, and as he grew closer saw that there was indeed the mouth of a cave, carved into the rocky cliffside beneath the roots of the trees.

He stepped into it, and his soldiers stayed at the mouth, guarding the entrance. It was unsettling when it didn’t become darker as he stepped into the cave; despite there already being no light to speak of, he could see. It didn’t look to be anything spectacular, merely walls of rock that stretched back perhaps twenty feet, and came to a dead-end. A hiding place, easily guarded, and nothing more.

Will ran his hand along the stone, feeling it, trying to ground himself in the moment. There was no point in thinking about the future, or worrying if he was even going to get there. This had to be done. Whatever ‘this’ was.

He heard the chatter of whispers, and the soft rush of air that meant the Wendigo was near. He felt it slither into the cave unseen, and watched it form before his eyes, its long, knobby limbs growing to sprout sharp, uneven claws; its large antlers sprouting from its head, stretching up to the ceiling, the white light of its eyes igniting beneath them. Will gazed into those eyes, so otherworldly and yet now so familiar; eyes that looked upon him with an adoration he still didn’t fully comprehend.

They fell into a kiss, Will’s lips caressed by blackness that held sharp, deadly teeth behind it. His heart ached from having hardly seen Hannibal at all these past few days. Will opened his mouth and let him in, a black, slithering tendril that imitated a tongue flicking into his mouth and pushing in deep, where Will caressed it, licking over it slowly until he heard a low, soft purr rumble from somewhere deep in Hannibal’s chest.

Will curled into the Wendigo’s body and felt slithering things wrap around him to pull him close while his heart beat faster. Its arms remained locked around Will’s back, pressing them close together, when a third hand arose from the wispy smoke and caressed his cheek, its claws gently raking over his skin, bringing a flush of heat wherever they touched. Then a fourth hand emerged, then more, all of them tenderly caressing Will’s skin wherever they could find it: his face, his neck, his hands, through his hair.

The hands all turned their claws towards him, deadly and pointed, perforating Will’s clothing with ease. The claws sliced through Will’s clothes, the fabric hardly making any tearing sounds at all, they were so sharp. The Wendigo didn’t take care to avoid Will’s skin, and blood sprang forth from the scratches that ran down his arms, legs, and torso. Will trembled from pain that was pleasure, his clothes falling in strips to the ground as his entire body was ravaged by the Wendigo’s want. Naked, Will groaned softly and leaned into his lover. The claws turned into mouths and lapped at the blood that now dripped from Will’s flesh. Ragged moans escaped Will as he grew lost to the sensations that surrounded him.

The Wendigo licked the blood from Will’s skin as it seeped to the surface and ran down in rivulets. Will was caressed by countless tongues, over his neck, his chest, his nipples, his stomach. His knees faltered. When one wrapped around his cock and pulled it deep into the blackness he cried out, his voice echoing off the walls of the cave. His knees gave out on him entirely and his legs buckled. The Wendigo held him up, black entrails entwining around Will’s limbs, thighs, and waist while it massaged his cock into deeper and deeper lust.

The Wendigo purred, the rumbling sound echoing off the walls of the cave. Gentleness caressed Will’s face and he lifted his arms to cling back, his hands clasping whatever part of his husband they could reach, his fingers shuddering as he held tightly to his lover. One of the tendrils slicked its way up between his legs and spread him apart, entering him with heat and slowness. Will groaned and his head tipped back, his eyes rolling back in his head as he was surrounded by pleasures. Even as he knew what Hannibal was doing, making what he thought was Will’s last moment the best he could imagine, he still couldn’t stop him.

“You had better not ignore your own pleasure.” Will managed to whisper through his haze. The words had hardly left his mouth when he was turned and pushed roughly against the stone wall, his body protected from it by the black arms that snaked around him, his cock still buried deep into one of them. He grunted as he was pushed, and smiled when he felt the form behind him grow more solid; felt the tentacle within him become more rigid and phallic. It pressed into him and then pulled out in a slow, patient manner, each press into Will’s body making him let out low, drawn-out groans.

Antlers sprang forth from all the appendages, branches dividing as they grew longer, each careful to avoid puncturing Will as they pressed to the wall of the cave. The stone cracked as they grew into it, caging Will on every side, holding his body nearly immobile. The gentle pushes into him became harder and more forceful, and with each one Will pushed back, welcoming it, wanting Hannibal in him, needing him close.

When he gave the first real thrust, Will let his pleasure be known, his voice piercing the otherwise silent air. He cried ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘Hannibal’ as he was fucked, the body of his lover pressed tightly to his back, both of them locked to the wall of the cave by the antlers, joined repeatedly and with growing desperation. The Wendigo’s mouth came to rest on Will’s shoulder and he felt drool running down his chest, then felt heat, then felt _breath_.

He couldn’t recall ever having felt the Wendigo breathe before.

That thought was erased from him as he was penetrated, Hannibal’s now very solid cock pushing into him, sliding with need and urgency. He moaned and fell helpless, his body no longer wanting to hold itself up, and not needing to. He was pinned to the wall by antlers and he was held while he was fucked, spread open and made full by a being who had earned his heart, and his entire life, to whom he gladly gave it.

Will groaned as Hannibal pounded, his face pressed into the rocky wall, his own erection still being sucked and massaged by writhing blackness. He was unable to move and so surrendered to the sensation of their joining, his blood pulsing with arousal, his ears hearing only Hannibal’s purrs behind him. Will’s head fell back to rest against its chest, which was now solid and warm; almost alive, almost like Hannibal’s human body. He melted into it, the heat of his own pleasure building, surrounded by his lover and all the passion he could give him.

He succumbed. He came, hard, the emotions and exhaustion of the past few weeks overflowing in waves, all of it pouring out of him and into Hannibal, the two of them joined together as closely as they could be. Will heard a very human-sounding cry tear from Hannibal’s voice as he felt him tremble behind him. Will tilted his head to the side to plant a kiss to his neck, finding to his surprise a very solid, warm, though black neck with a pulse beneath. Hannibal tensed one last time and then relaxed.

The tendrils snaked away; the antlers retracted. The claws that held him became hands, and he felt the body behind him shifting, an unfamiliar crackling sound accompanying it. Will stood, shivering, his body caked in blood, every part of him aching. He expected the Wendigo to fade into nothingness, as it so often did. But instead he was held by a body that was warm, and solid, arms that were muscular and strong, and lips that rested over his chin, breath rushing from them. Alive.

He looked down at the two arms that were wrapped tenderly over his blood-smeared waist, expecting to see human arms, from the way they felt. What he saw instead had a human shape to them, but were purely black. He turned slowly, feeling the body that was pressed against his own, naked with him, warm with him. What he saw was Hannibal’s face, perfectly Hannibal’s face, but entirely black. His eyes were white. He had antlers, but they were sturdy and well-formed, not shape-shifting whatsoever. He was the same height as Hannibal’s human form. 

Will reached up and stroked his cheek. It was warm. It was solid.

“This is what I am when I am whole.” Hannibal said, and it was _his_ voice, it was _both_ of their voices; the sound of a man and the sound of the whisper of shadows, together and perfect. “When my spirit unites with my mind, and I am joined together, in one place, this is me.”

Will leaned his forehead against Hannibal’s and failed to keep a tear from falling. He stroked his fingers over his cheek and down his neck, across his shoulder, feeling him, learning him.

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, drinking in just how _alive_ Hannibal was, his skin warm with a pulse beneath, even as it was purely black.

“I am extremely vulnerable, like this.” Hannibal said. “Like you are. One little snap of my neck, and I’d be dead. But I wanted you to see me, Will. To see my complete self, as I truly am when I am one.”

Will closed his eyes and tilted his lips forward to press them softly to Hannibal’s warm, solid, pure black lips. He tasted like a perfect combination of the two of them. He was whole.

Will dared open his eyes and saw the pain in Hannibal’s face.

“I love you.” Will whispered.

He saw the depth of the sentiment reflect through Hannibal’s expression, and knew his love was returned, a thousandfold.

“And I you, Will Graham. As I have never loved anyone.”

Will gazed into Hannibal’s eyes for as long as he dared and drank them in; the purest white, buried in the darkest black. Eyes that looked at him like no other pair ever would.

Will inhaled deeply and let it out in a long, shaking breath.

“I’m ready.” he whispered. “Do what you must.”

He felt Hannibal tense, and he slid his fingers along Will’s cheek and behind his head, through his hair, clasping it tightly. Hannibal was unable to hide the pain in his expression.

“If you do not survive this, I will be behind you not long after.” he said. Will steeled himself and gave a nod, still not knowing what was to come.

He felt the press of an extremely sharp claw against the side of his stomach, and without further warning, Hannibal pushed it deep into his flesh. Will gasped from the pain, his eyes growing wide as he felt it slice through his skin and move through his gut, splitting open his abdomen. He shook from agony, his hands clasping under Hannibal’s shoulders, pulling his lover close to him as his flesh was gently, lovingly eviscerated. He felt Hannibal within him, pushing through his organs, carefully cutting him in a manner so that he might survive. While he slit Will open, their eyes never left each other, and Will clung to him tightly, trying to reassure them both that this would not be their last moment together.

Will’s blood poured down his pelvis, soaked into his pubic hair, coated his thighs and splashed onto the floor with loud, slick noises. His body revolted against the pain and lost its will to stand, now being held up solely by Hannibal’s arm and the claw that was sunk into his gut.

Hannibal pulled the claw out of him, their eyes still locked onto each other, and Will sank, unable to stand. Hannibal bent and lowered his naked body to sit against the cold wall of the cave with gentleness and love, leaning over him to stroke his face as he lay in a growing pool of his own blood, his hands clasping his middle out of instinct, his breaths ragged and shallow.

Hannibal rose, the blood that was on his black skin soaking into it, being eaten as a meal, even now. Will shivered as he leaned against the cave wall, his hands trembling as he futilely tried to hold his flesh together. His panting was quick and heavy, but he forced himself not to scream, not wanting to make this any harder on Hannibal than it already was.

Hannibal turned to the mouth of the cave and spoke.

“I’m ready for you now.” he said. Will forced himself to turn and look at the mouth of the cave, surprise and curiosity still managing to reach him through his haze of pain. He heard the clipping of hooves on the stone floor first, approaching him slowly and with purpose from out of the darkness. The shape of a Ravenstag appeared, its body made purely of white light; beautiful and healing, the exact opposite of Hannibal. It slowly walked towards them, the sound of its hooves clopping on the stone echoing off the walls. It turned to face Will with a sadness and determination in its eyes.

“They have agreed to this.” Hannibal said. “It is very important to the Ravenstags that you survive.”

He stared at Hannibal with confusion for a moment, and then his eyes grew wide with understanding. _Ravenstag blood, freely given_.

The stag stepped forward so that its enormous head hovered over Will, and outstretched its neck. Hannibal ran one hand down its flank before grabbing its fur, and then he looked into its eyes.

“Thank you.” he said. With the same claw that he’d gutted Will with, he sliced quickly across its throat. Bright, glowing blood sprayed from it, splashing across the wall above Will’s head in a speckled arc, then poured down the stag’s neck, soaking its fur. It glowed brightly through Will’s vision, brilliant and magnificent, the healing magic of the Ravenstags splashing across his body and dripping onto the floor.

It buckled at the knees, and Hannibal helped it to lay down on the floor beside Will. He crawled to it and put his hands over its neck, shuddering from the pain, his vision blurring as he struggled to stay conscious. He turned his head quickly to look at Hannibal, who was gazing down at both of them with a somber expression. Then, before Will’s eyes, his entire form wavered, and the blackness slicked off of him, and through him, and out of him, to crawl along the floor and rise up as the form of the Wendigo, leaving a perfectly human-looking Hannibal standing beside it.

On Hannibal’s human face, tears fell. Will clasped his hands tighter it the fur around the Ravenstag's throat, its healing, glowing blood spreading around them, mingling with Will’s as they became soaked in a sea of red.

“I would stay and guard you,” Hannibal whispered, his voice cracking with sadness, “But the Dragon can sense me and would thus find you too easily. The wisest plan is for me to meet him as he comes. I will fight him with my life. I will die to protect you.”

Will tried to argue, but his body was growing weak. The clasp that he had around the stag’s throat loosened, and he fell to his back, lying in the pool of blood that surrounded them, Will’s dark red and the stag’s bright white swirling together on the cave floor. Hannibal stepped to them and gently brushed a stand of hair out of Will’s eyes, as his heaving pants slowed, and his chest started to still.

He leaned down and pressed a long, gentle kiss to Will’s lips. He then rose, and with a last gaze, turned and left, both of his forms vanishing into the darkness. 


	24. Chapter 24

The first residents of the town to notice something was amiss were the dogs. First one bark, then a second. Then a chorus of incessant barking erupted, the exasperated shouts of owners turning to concern as it became apparent this was more than just a squirrel. Having the memory of two Wendigos ravaging the town still fresh in their minds, followed by the mangled bodies still recovering in Chilton’s house, people reacted quickly with fear.

The shops were closed and shutters locked when the enormous, terrifyingly familiar form of the Wendigo emerged from the forest, its clawed feet so large it left prints in the mud big enough to swallow a pig. Terrified eyes peered out from behind shutters and door-cracks, watching the spirit they had thought was dead walk silently down the main road until it reached the center of town. And then it stopped.

There it stood, giant and unmoving, its antlers rising far above the rooftops into the sky. Grey clouds were gathering, blocking out the sky much too quickly to be natural, and still, the Wendigo did not waver.

For hours, it stood. Eventually, the dogs fell silent. No one dared move. The villagers held their breath as they waited for the spirit to act. Even Jack, who had half a mind to march out into the street and demand of it what it wanted, thought better of it and remained in his home to protect his wife.

The Wendigo remained still for so long that word reached out to the farms, and then to the Verger household. Margot panicked for a while, sending the staff to search the entire premises for Alana and Abigail; neither of whom could be found. Eventually word reached her that they were still in town from their earlier shopping trip, apparently holed up at Bedelia’s with a lot of other townspeople.

Margot took their son into her arms and ordered all the staff down into the cellar, the entire Verger household cowering underground, in the dark. No one dared move, speak, or even light a lamp.

Then, a great, terrifying roar came from the sky and shook the rafters of the mansion, bits of dirt falling from the walls of the cellar as Margot cowered with the servants. The baby started to cry and she shushed him, her voice shaking as her ears rang from the terrifying sound. Then a second roar, louder and closer, followed by a third, nearly over them. 

The fourth was fainter, and one of the braver and less wise servant-boys ran outside to look. He came back, face white with terror.

“It’s a red dragon!” he screamed, a claim so absurd that had they not seen a Wendigo destroying their villagers themselves, no one would have believed him.

The sound of the Dragon’s cry pierced the silence of the town, and the Wendigo rose from its haunches. It stood up to its full height, towering above the trees, and let out a screech so loud it crumbled a chimney and deafened the people near it. 

In the sky, a shadow far away and high against the backdrop of grey clouds turned towards the sound. It circled in an enormous arc, the largeness of it not yet apparent from this distance. Jack peered through the slats in the shutters with widening eyes as he realized the colossal size of what came towards them, its form growing as it barreled towards the Wendigo, which stood perfectly still.

Bright red and with a lizard-like mouth full of teeth, its leathery wings spread out in a glide. The Dragon dove directly towards the Wendigo, talons extended forward. The Wendigo rose to meet it, its own claws lengthened to several feet, and they met with a clash that sounded like a dozen swords. The thunder of it shook the town, clattering pots adding to the din as they fell off shelves and shattered. The Dragon cried with a loud shriek and bounded back into the sky, the single flap of its wings enough to topple a stack of barrels, water pouring across the ground as they broke.

It flung itself high into the sky and then curved around again, this time its chest expanding as it dove. It raced along the corridor between the buildings and let out an incomprehensibly long breath of fire, igniting every building in its path. Humans ran out of them in all directions, screaming, running away from main street and into the woods behind the buildings. The wall of flames from its breath approached the Wendigo, the teeth of a speeding Dragon behind the fire. Just before the flames reached it, the Wendigo lifted its mouth to the sky and let out a deafening roar. 

A clap of thunder that shook the ground tore through the clouds. Like a tear in a sac that had been ready to burst, torrential rain exploded from the sky. It subdued the fire, steam hissing from the buildings and from the Dragon’s mouth itself, creating a flood of water that ran down the street like a river.

The Dragon’s teeth still reached the Wendigo, fire hot in its throat. The Wendigo tilted his antlers forward to meet it, the sharp points of them driving into the Great Red Dragon’s mouth, its teeth slashing chunks of his antlers away, even as they punctured holes in the sides of its face.

The Dragon bit down anyway, antlers piercing through his flesh for a brief moment before the acidic fire burned the antlers in his mouth away. The Wendigo swung an enormous claw up to slash against its throat, diamond scales flying from his body as his claws scraped over its nearly impenetrable skin.

Having lost its momentum, the Dragon landed on the ground with all four of its limbs. It raised its teeth and the Wendigo raised his claws, and the two bit and slashed at each other, chunks of dragon-scales flying in all directions, becoming lodged in the flimsy wooden walls of the humans’ buildings. The rain continued to flood the town until the fires were nearly out, when the Dragon inhaled deeply and pointed its mouth towards its adversary.

The Wendigo vanished into smoke just as the flames exploded through where its body had been. It re-formed behind the Dragon, sinking its claws deep into the end of its tail, slicing off the stinger at the end. The Dragon howled and flicked his tail, spewing his acidic blood, sprays of it crossing over the Wendigo’s body, burning holes in it that turned to smoke and could not re-form. The cries of the Wendigo echoed through the forest, but its army did not budge; having received their orders they were waiting to be told when to move.

The Dragon whirled and snarled at the Wendigo, their battle thunderous and deadly, occupying the attention of those in the village so that no one noticed the two very ordinary-looking men approaching each other in the street.

“Francis.” Hannibal said as they grew close, standing in front of a building that was now charred along the roof and porch, ignoring the water that rushed past their feet from the rain, ankle-deep.

“Hannibal.” Francis replied, pausing three feet in front of Hannibal, knowing better than to underestimate him in this form, the scar on his upper lip reminding him of their last encounter this way.

“You will die protecting your human, as did your sister.” Francis said. “My scouts have weakened your army. My soldiers are nearly here, and you do not stand a chance.”

Hannibal spread his teeth in a sneer.

“You have always underestimated me, Francis, which will be your undoing.”

With a deafening roar, the Wendigo cried for its army to attack. 

Hundreds of shadows leapt from the forest, flying over the heads of the cowering humans who clung to tree trunks for safety. They all converged, aiming for Francis’ human body, coming frighteningly close before the Dragon inhaled and let out another decimating bellow of fire.

The flames burned around them, destroying Hannibal’s soldiers who had gotten too close, and then from the sky, a chorus of cries tore through the clouds. Winged red lizards shrieked and dove towards them, each meeting a black, clawed shadow as the two enormous spirits continued to battle each other in the center of town. The rain continued to pour, dampening the ability of the Dragon’s army to breathe fire, causing white clouds of smoke to billow up into the air, making the chaos difficult to see.

War broke out in the town, black shadows fighting brilliant red dragons, flames and flood, the humans that screamed and ran merely a backdrop to the battle that raged around them. Amidst it all, Hannibal and Francis stood still, face-to-face, just far enough away so that neither could attack.

“I am searching.” Francis said. “I will find him.”

Hannibal gave a wide, confident smile that lit the fire that sprang forth behind his own eyes.

“I hope you are fully prepared for death, Francis.” Hannibal said calmly. “As I am.”

The Wendigo plunged a claw into the Dragon’s throat, the cry of the Dragon’s pain followed by the Wendigo’s as acidic blood dissolved away the claw. The two continued to clash, the battle evenly matched; neither army making any headway, neither spirit gaining the upper hand.

* * *

Will lay in the darkness for a long time. He had held the Ravenstag’s fur for a while, but then his fingers slipped in their grip as he grew weaker, and soon it took all of his strength simply to breathe. He felt his blood pouring out of him, along with his life, and the world around him faded from his sight as he no longer had the strength to keep up his pendulum vision. He was left in the darkness, in the cold, blind and unable to move. 

Eventually, he heard his own breaths starting to fail. They became shaky and weak; the shuddering of his chest as it heaved becoming nothing but gentle tremors. He heard the Ravenstag take one final breath in the darkness, and then not long after, he ceased to breathe as well.

Yet he still lay.

Slowly, everything became calm. The blood ceased to flow from him; he assumed because he ran out of it. The pool surrounding him and the Ravenstag grew still, then slowly cold. He could still feel it, though it was like a distant dream, now. The pain was there, but fuzzy and far away. 

The Ravenstag was as still as he was. Not a stir of breath flowed from either of them. The blood around them congealed and started to dry around the edges. He knew they were dying. Eventually, after a long time had passed, he knew he was dead. He could no longer move his eyes; he was stuck staring at the gash in his abdomen, which he could barely see. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t be able to see at all, but there was the faint shadow of his own body in front of him, cold and lifeless.

Time wore on. He heard, in the distance, thunderous roars piercing the sky and rumbling the ground. One was his love, the other his enemy. He knew these facts, and yet thinking of them did not cause him to feel anything. Everything was muted, faded. The world was grey. He was grey.

He heard the padding of feet; four of them, plop-plop-plop as they pattered through the stickiness that had once been his blood. A dog’s nose emerged into his vision, sniffing at him, soft whines coming from its throat. Will’s heart leapt with joy.

“Arrow.” he thought. He knew it was a thought: his mouth was dead, he couldn’t move it. Yet Arrow turned his head to look at him, as if he’d heard. 

“Arrow, good boy.” Will thought, and Arrow wagged his tail, sniffing along his abdomen. His tongue emerged and he began lapping at the blood on Will’s naked stomach, and Will could feel the warmth of his tongue, the life of his most faithful dog a stark contrast to all else he felt. Arrow licked, then slurped, then dove his nose into the gash of Will’s abdomen, and began to eat. Will’s heart only glowed at the sight, watching his dog eat him. It made him happy. It was right.

Arrow lifted his face to the ceiling and howled. Will heard a chorus of answering howls out in the forest beyond the cave, and knew them all. His dogs. His pack. They came running, bounding in through the mouth of the cave, every one of them, even Pudge, who had waddled this far on his stubby little legs. They wagged their tails with delight at the sight of Will, and he smiled at them, though his lips did not move, as they dove their noses into his gut and ate, each taking a bite of him, gleefully wagging their tails while they lapped up his blood and swallowed his flesh.

Then Arrow lay down beside him, resting his head on Will’s chest, and stilled. Then slowly each of them followed, surrounding Will with their warm bodies, laying down in his dried, flaking blood, maws all covered in red. His pack lay and closed their eyes, each falling asleep, each waiting.

They were waiting. The shadows that guarded the cave were waiting. Hannibal was waiting.

Will realized that he’d been dead for hours, now. Or rather, his _body_ had been dead. He obviously wasn’t; he was still here, thinking. 

“Arrow.” he thought, though his mouth would not move. His dog lifted his head, a slow wag of his tail flapping against the cave floor. “Arrow, you can hear me, can’t you?”

He knew his mouth wasn’t moving. But his dog lifted his tongue to his face and licked it eagerly. 

Will moved to pet him. He thought about scratching his dog under the chin, and saw Arrow lift his chin up as if he were being scratched. He could feel the fur under his fingers, even as the human fingers he stared at remained unmoving on the cave floor. He moved his hand up to scratch Arrow’s ears, and the dog lolled out his tongue, his tail wagging happily. 

Will realized he was _seeing_. He shouldn’t be able to see. There was no light in this cave. But there was Arrow, clear as day in front of him. There was his body, bloody and naked, on the cave floor. Will went to rise, and then felt the weight of the body. Felt it hold him down, heavy and immovable. He was separate from it, yet still inside it. _Trapped_ by it.

He pulled his hand away from Arrow and tried to rise again. His chest felt heavy, pushed down by the dead pile of flesh that he’d been living inside of his entire life. He couldn’t move it. The flesh was dead; it had no interest in being moved. He pushed out with his hands, and felt the barrier keeping him in. He pushed with his hands against every part of it; against the skin of his arms, against the inside of his face, against the inside of his chest. There was no way out, he was trapped in this rotting flesh. 

He started to panic and heard Arrow whine with concern. He rose and shoved his nose into the gash in Will’s abdomen, and Will could _feel him_. He grabbed Arrow’s nose and stroked it, and his loyal dog lapped out his tongue to lick his hand. Will followed him as he pulled his muzzle out, and pushed his hand out of himself through the gash in his abdomen.

He suddenly understood. Hannibal had cut a way out for him. Made him an exit. He pushed his other hand out through the gash and felt the coldness of the air around him. He grasped blindly, folding his limbs until he felt the cave floor and pushed, pulling his head out from the slit, birthing himself from his own body. He emerged, wet and bloody and shivering from exhaustion. He tumbled to the floor and rolled, then stopped himself with his claws.

Will rose onto four powerful, sturdy legs, and shook himself to dry his matted fur. Blood splattered everywhere. His pack rose beside him, each leaving their bodies behind, dogs still lying around the dead body of Will Graham. It looked so small and fragile. It was a pathetic little thing, its fingers still clasping the Ravenstag’s fur. It remained lifeless and he went over to it to see if there was a response.

Then he heard a screech of agony pierce across the sky; the cry of his lover. Will turned and sprang from the cave, rushing towards the sound, hoping he was not too late.

* * *

The Wendigo rose to its full height, pointing its claws, teeth, and antlers all towards the sky where the Dragon aimed at him from high above. The flap of its wings pushed a rush of air heavily down upon the town, knocking over humans that were trying to run. They weren’t able to escape the village; the violence of the Dragon’s warriors fighting Hannibal’s soldiers kept them huddled, hiding in corners until a flash of fire chased them to another hiding place.

With a great roar the Dragon dove, and the Wendigo rose to meet it. One of its antlers was missing; cracked at the base, lying in the water that flowed from the torrential rains. The damage was matched on the Dragon, its rear left talon now reduced to a single toe, the rest of its digits scattered throughout the village as they had been tossed by the Wendigo’s teeth.

The Dragon dove and the Wendigo met it with every part of its body that was sharp. Its other antler sliced along the Dragon’s belly, finally, a shower of its nearly-indestructible scales splashing into the water beneath them. The acid poured from its skin and seared the Wendigo’s left eye, its cry of pain thundering through the forest, flocks of birds roosting over a mile away taking flight to flee to safety.

The Dragon landed in the water with an enormous splash, a wave drenching Beverly, Alana, and Abigail as they huddled together behind a sturdy stone wall that had not yet been destroyed. The Dragon sprang from its haunches to attack the Wendigo with its teeth, finally succeeding as the Wendigo could not see on its left now. The sharp teeth plunged into the Wendigo’s left arm and tore it off, the blackness vanishing into smoke just before the limb hit the water. 

The Dragon paid for its brazen closeness, however, as a claw from the Wendigo’s right hand plunged into the side of its face, tearing a chunk of its flesh where the scales had already been scraped away. It shrieked and flapped its enormous wings, bounding into the air with a vicious kick to the Wendigo’s chest with its one good talon, four puncture-marks driving into it as it rose into the sky.

The Wendigo faltered and fell to its knees. Beverly almost felt sorry for it; it was clearly suffering and fighting with all it had. She had the strange feeling that it was trying to _protect_ something, as several times the Dragon had tried to fly off, only to be taunted back by the Wendigo. She recalled the last time she had seen the monster, when it had been fighting another like itself, and wondered if it wasn’t a _good_ spirit, benevolent and trying to protect the village.

A deafening shriek roared from the Dragon as it turned high up in the air and began a deadly dive. Its speed was frightening, and the three women turned to run, only to discover one of the baby dragons behind them, cornering them against the wall, snarling and snapping its teeth. Abigail froze in place as Alana shoved the girl behind her and spread out her arms. Beverly glanced around them for a weapon, any way to defend themselves, but there was nothing. The two women glanced at each other, eyes meeting with determination, and put up their fists, ready to fight even though they both knew they had no chance of winning.

There was a great rush of air as the Dragon descended upon the hunched-over Wendigo, its talons out, deadly sharp at a fatal speed. The Wendigo lifted its head and glared at it, still challenging it, even though it was greatly weakened and could not even fully stand.

Then a new roar thundered from the Southern Forest. The sound was deep and rumbling, not at all like the shrieks of the Dragon or the Wendigo. A great beast leapt from the woods, knocking the trees around it over as if they were tinder-sticks, an enormous mass of quivering muscle surrounded by fur as black as the Wendigo’s skin, and eyes just as white. It raced down the main street at a breakneck speed, bounding on all fours, shaped somewhat like a wolf, somewhat like a man, and ten times as terrifying than either. It had foot-long teeth that curved from its snarling mouth and a crown of razor-sharp antlers rising from the top of its head. 

The Dragon saw it coming but it was too late for it to stop its dive. The wolf-beast sprang high into the air and tackled the Dragon above the Wendigo’s head, the force of its momentum flinging them both down into the mud. The Dragon slid on its back past several houses, the Wolf snarling as its colossal teeth slashed at its face. It raised its front handlike paws, where enormous, deadly sharp claws unsheathed and plunged towards the Dragon. They scraped along the Dragon’s neck and flank, impossibly hard scales being torn from its body and flung to the ground.

Then Beverly heard a smaller, but closer, deadly snarl. She turned her attention back to the baby dragon that cornered her and Alana and Abigail. It curled its legs and coiled to strike. Just as it was about to, another shadow-beast, this one more the size and shape of a normal wolf, leapt between the humans and baby dragon, and growled at the dragon _in their defense_. The baby dragon seemed unperturbed and attacked anyway, only to be met by vicious teeth plunging into its throat, clasped over its jugular.

The shadow-wolf yanked back and the acidic blood of the baby dragon spewed forth. Beverly and Abigail were able to leap out of the way, but Alana was too slow without her cane. She screamed and put up her arms to protect her face from the acidic spray, only to feel her body pushed down by their protector, covered by fur that was so black she couldn’t honestly say she could _see_ it.

The acid burned away some of its fur, but the rain washed it away before there was much damage. The shadow-wolf rose and opened its mouth full of deadly-sharp teeth to eat Alana’s face. Beverly screamed with horror and covered Abigail’s eyes… until she realized it wasn’t eating her. It was licking her.

It licked and licked, and then Bev noticed that its nebulous tail was wagging. Alana peered up at it through the shower of tongue, laughing, and saw on its ears familiar notches that a dog she knew very well had once gotten from a fight with a fox.

She and Beverly both looked at that, then at each other, and at the same time said,

“Arrow?”

The shadow-wolf gave a happy bark, though the sound was eerie and more like the whispers of trees than a dog. It crawled off of Alana and sat in the mud, wagging its tail, which did not splash the water the way it should have, because it wasn’t fully… _there_. Beverly and Abigail each reached a hand down to help Alana to her feet, and the three of them stared at it in disbelief. 

They heard another terrifying roar and turned to look at the battle of beasts on main street. The had gotten itself up, and there was a gaping wound in the Wolf’s hip, blackness rather than blood pouring down its right leg. The Dragon looked the worse for wear, and when the Wendigo got up to stand beside the Wolf, both of them rising to their full height to stand beside each other, it became apparent that those two were allies. The Dragon inhaled, giving only a warning of seconds, and expelled a wave of flames from its mouth at the two of them. 

In unison they rolled to opposite sides. A wall of flame shot down main street, searing anything that was left, catching a few buildings on fire that somehow remained. Chaos broke around them as baby dragons fought the shadow-beasts and the new shadow-wolves, any humans unlucky enough to get caught between losing limbs or life. 

The Wendigo and the Wolf both rose at once and attacked. The Dragon shrieked as they leapt upon it together, claws and teeth sinking into its flesh, neither seeming to care about the consequences of its deadly, acidic blood. The Wendigo leapt onto its back, its claws tearing at its wings and sank its teeth into the flesh of its back, where the scales had been scraped away. Likewise the Wolf dove beneath, slicing its deadly, razor-sharp claws along its vulnerable belly, the blood pouring from it thickly now, splashing into the water that flooded the street.

The world around them became so chaotic that Beverly’s attention was drawn instead to the one thing that was moving slowly. She peered through the torrential rain at a man, entirely naked, walking calmly down the center of the street, heading right for the deadly battle that was three monsters in their death throes. Unnaturally calm, he approached the chaos, his brown curls matted to his head by the rain, an open gash across the front of his abdomen.

“ _Will_?” she cried, not believing her eyes as red wings and black claws flew in a mess of chaos between her and what she saw. Alana and Abigail turned when they heard Beverly and together the three of them stared, eyes wide, mouths agape, at a very naked, eerily calm Will Graham. He seemed undisturbed by any of the battles raging around him, not even flinching when the Wendigo howled from a claw that was plunged directly through its stomach. They watched him as he walked through it all, towards two other men who were standing unnaturally still. They recognized one of them as Hannibal, and watched him double over when the Dragon plunged its claw into the Wendigo’s abdomen. Other than that he didn’t move, and neither did the stranger who faced him.

Will walked directly up to them at the same moment the Dragon took to the air. Neither the Wendigo nor the Wolf let go, both plunging their claws into their enemy as they rose. The three monsters hauled up into the sky together, each determined to make their enemy dead at any cost. A flock of leathery red sprang up from the ground, all of the baby dragons swirling to meet their master in the air, many with shadowed beasts clinging to them with teeth and claws. Bodies fell around them as battles were won and lost in the air; some baby dragons falling dead, some shadow-beasts splashing to the ground in puddles before they vanished into smoke. 

Will reached Hannibal and the other man. For a moment, none of them moved.

“Hello, Dragon.” Will said, with a voice much too calm for the chaos that ravaged around them.

“Francis,” Hannibal said, his voice icy. “Allow me to introduce my mate. This is Will.”

Francis’s steely eyes locked onto Will’s gaze and did not move. He seemed entirely unconcerned with the state of Will’s nakedness. When he spoke it was little more than a growl.

“It will be an honor to watch you die.”

Will sneered, and then he and Hannibal attacked the stranger in unison. He was quick and lithe, leaping out of the way, pulling a knife from his belt and plunging it into Will’s right cheek. Will did not scream, but from high up in the air, the Wolf gave a pained howl, it’s anguished voice rattling the branches of the trees and causing the humans to cover their ears. With a trembling hand, Will reached up to pull knife from his face and turned it upon his enemy.

He sank the knife several times into Francis, shrieks of pain pealing from the Dragon in the sky as he did so. He swung his fists at both Hannibal and Will, managing to toss Hannibal to the ground. Before Francis could get near him Will attacked, forcing him to turn around to face him. As he did so, Hannibal leapt at him from behind, landing on his back and wrapping his arms around Francis’s neck. Together, Will and Hannibal attacked, Will slicing the knife across Francis’s abdomen while Hannibal bit the front of his neck with his teeth, taking a deep bite out of it; vicious, more beast than man.

At the same moment, high in the air, the Wendigo sank it’s teeth into the Dragon’s throat, the deadly sharp blades slicing through the thick scales even as acid sprang from the Dragon’s body. The Wolf plunged its claws into the Dragon’s belly and raked them across, ignoring the searing hot blood that poured over its hand, burning the claws away. A death-shriek came from the Dragon, echoing off the clouds as it twisted and writhed, then began to fall towards the earth, taking the Wendigo and the Wolf with it.

Bodies of monsters began to rain out of the sky: dragons, shadow-beasts, and black wolves. The three great monsters all plummeted towards the earth, and with an enormous thunder that shook the ground the three of them crashed, the Dragon beneath the other two. Water and mud splashed high, up over the rooftops, followed by more large splashes as more dragons fell from the sky. Alana, Beverly, and Abigail all stared at the pile of three monsters and the pile of three men, none of them moving for a long while.

When the bodies had ceased to fall from the sky, the Wendigo and Hannibal both stirred at the same moment. In unison they wobbled to their feet, bodies broken in the exact same manner: each missing a left eye, a right arm. Then Hannibal reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle. He drank from it, and before the women’s eyes, both he and the Wendigo began to heal. Their arms grew back, their eyes re-formed. The Wendigo’s missing antler returned as Hannibal re-grew a missing ear. In that instant it was all exceedingly clear and utterly terrifying. The three human women found themselves clutching each other with white knuckles, none of them willing to speak or move.

Hannibal bent down to a naked Will, sprawled on his back in the mud. He gently lifted his head and whispered something to him, at the same moment the Wendigo whispered something to the Wolf. He then poured the liquid into Will’s mouth, and Beverly saw that Hannibal was crying. She went to rise, to go to her best friend, but Alana put a quick hand on her shoulder and held her down.

“This is beyond our understanding, Beverly.” she whispered. 

Beverly bit her lower lip as they watched. The Wolf stirred, deep purrs coming from its throat as it moved and rolled onto all fours and then wobbly rose onto its hind legs. Will struggled into a sitting position and with Hannibal’s help, was able to stand. For a moment, they looked like they were going to be alright. 

Then Will tipped his head back and his body was wracked with trembling. The Wolf’s form grew fuzzy, then dissipated into the air, blowing away like smoke. Arrow, who had been beside them, vanished along with it, and Will collapsed into Hannibal’s arms.

Hannibal caught him gently, arms wrapped with desperate tenderness around his naked form, pressing tearful kisses to the side of his unconscious face. He muttered soft words that had no meaning to Beverly, but now she no longer cared. She rose from her hiding place and ran towards them, Alana and Abigail close behind her, concern on all their faces.

Other people began to emerge from their hiding places. They all approached slowly, both with terror and reverence, to Hannibal and Will. Beverly knew at once that they’d all seen what she had seen, though she wasn’t sure if they understood what it meant as she did. Everyone stopped a good distance away. No one spoke.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Hannibal said softly, his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke. “I must attend to him.”

He lifted Will into his arms, one arm under his knees, the other behind his back. He walked towards the edge of the crowd and they parted for him, faces still pale and eyes sunken, unbelieving of all they had just seen. Beverly saw her vision waver and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her arm. She felt fingers clasp her hand and held Abigail back tightly, no need for any words to be exchanged. Without needing to know anything more, it was obvious Will had sacrificed his life to save them, and they knew that any chance he had of living lay with Dr. Lecter.

Hannibal continued his slow walk out of the village, turning not down the road towards his house but to the woods. The Wendigo rose and followed them, its form silently vanishing between the trunks of the bare trees as the first flakes of winter snow fell from the sky, landing on the bodies of dead dragons that littered the town.

No one dared follow them.


	25. Chapter 25

Will opened his eyes to bright sunshine. It warmed his face and illuminated the fluffy rose-colored whiteness above him, as he lay on his side in a soft patch of grass and wildflowers. A gentle, warm breeze ruffled his fur and he opened his eyes fully, to see pink blossoms in the branches that stretched over his head, petals gently fluttering down from them to land on his black fur in piles of softness.

He lifted his head and sniffed at the new grass springing up by his snout. It was warm and bright and young; the color of spring and newness. He turned his head to look at himself, and saw a giant wolf’s body, curled up to sleep, with fur as black as the Wendigo. He went to stand, and as he did so he felt himself transform. He didn’t so much as think about it as it naturally happened, and then he found himself standing upright, on two hind legs. Up, up, up he rose, until he towered over the ground beneath him. He felt branches tangle in his antlers above his head. He shook his head with a snort, and the branches broke away, raining down around him like little twigs.

He looked down at his front paws and saw they had become hands- hands that ended in deadly, sharp claws as long as his palms. Claws that he was very familiar with now; that he had used in so many battles, to kill dragon scouts, and meals, and even the Dragon himself. 

He turned his head around to look at the rest of himself. He looked much more like the Wendigo now; talk and lean with black, black skin, though he still had black fur on his chest and back and legs. His tail was gone in this form, though his knees bent the opposite direction from what he was used to and his feet were indisputably wolf’s paws. He opened his mouth and felt a row of extremely long, razor-sharp, deadly teeth, though they did not slice his tongue when he licked them. He was enormous, and strange, and unmistakably a monster. And it felt _right_.

He took a step with his new legs, and found it easy and effortless. The trees looked small to him, he was so enormous. He looked up at the sky and saw the same dark, wintery clouds that perpetually covered the sky of the Southern Forest, save for a hole above him where the sun pierced through.

Not far ahead of him, the budding grass gave way to thick, wintery snow. The only trees that bloomed were the few near him; the rest were all stuck in their permanent winter, ancient and leafless. He took more steps, sniffing the air as he went, watching in amazement as the snow melted as he passed by, trees exploding into blossom as he walked, grass and clover sprouting from the muddy ground beneath his paw prints.

He heard chatter, and turned his head to see Tiny Things scampering up and down the branches, excitedly talking amongst themselves about the seeds that were suddenly available for eating. He watched them dart amongst the trees, from winter to spring to winter, and laughed at their silly antics.

His laugh was loud and rumbling, and shook the branches above him. Winged Things fluttered down to flit around his face; no longer black shadows, but bright rainbows of color that shone before his eyes. They flapped above him, their whispers now a song, and Will smiled up at them and heard the excitement in their voices.

“Tell the King his Prince is awake!” they cried, and Will’s heart leapt with joy at the thought of Hannibal. He turned his head in every direction, searching through the trees, looking for his love.

He spotted him, tall and black, antlers that sprouted from his head rattling the tree branches as he walked slowly through the snow. As he approached Will felt his heart beat faster with excitement to see his love. He found he could no longer wait and he ran, and then so did Hannibal. With joy they came together, both wrapping their arms tightly around each other, their tongues emerging to lick each other’s skin, tasting, consuming. The chorus of their subjects sang around them as Will nuzzled his face against Hannibal’s neck.

“You have awakened.” he said, though his mouth did not move. His claws raked through Will’s fur with reverence, his white eyes taking in his form, from the deadly crown of pointed antlers on his head to the wolf’s paws that formed his feet.

“Beautiful, Will. A sight to behold.”

Will didn’t even have the urge to roll his eyes. He grinned with joy and pride. He knew he was beautiful. 

He heard rustling beneath him and looked down to see his pack bounding around his feet, joyfully playing with each other. Arrow wagged his tail ferociously and Will reached down to scratch his ears, not worried at all about his deadly claws, knowing that nothing could ever hurt his dogs again. 

“How did this happen?” he asked, his other dogs bounding around him. He knelt to give attention to each one, scritching ears and chins while he was licked all over.

“For animals, transforming into their spirit selves is much easier. They merely decided to be with you, and ate of your flesh, and now here they are. You have very loyal servants, Will.”

Arrow yipped happily and licked Will’s face, his tail wagging at top speed. Will chuckled, the sound causing flowers to spring from the ground and burst into bloom.

“I’m a freaking fairy-prince.” he thought, and though he didn’t speak, the wind carried his thoughts to all around him, and Hannibal laughed.

“You are newly hatched.” Hannibal said. “In time, you will learn to master nature as you please.”

Will smiled at him, and felt a kiss upon his face, though Hannibal remained an arm’s length away. He tilted his head into it and smiled, feeling another kiss, and leaning into the touch, though he saw nothing.

“Will.” he heard, and it was not the forest or Wendigo that spoke, it was Hannibal’s human voice. “Will, open your eyes, my love.”

Will snorted.

“They _are_ open.”

He felt a hand brush across his cheek. A furless, stubble-covered cheek. A man’s cheek. He lapped his tongue across his face and felt the fur there, and his deadly teeth. He knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

“Here, my love. Your other eyes. Open them.”

He felt the lightest press of a thumb on his eyelid, and realized that it was closed, even though he saw the forest. He opened his eyes, and a second world was revealed to him. He saw Hannibal’s human face, hovering over him in their house, in their bed. He smiled, and Hannibal leaned down to kiss him, soft and gentle. The Wendigo’s smile was wide and joyful, while Hannibal’s human face showed relief and the fading wisps of worry. Tears fell down his human cheeks as he kissed Will, and Will lifted his human arms to pull Hannibal close to him.

“I’m okay.” he said, slowly realizing that he was _alive_ , everything he touched was _real_ and here he was, looking at both forms of Hannibal, with both of his own pairs of eyes.

Hannibal showered him with kisses and Will eagerly leaned up into them, their arms wrapping tightly around each other as they clung, no words powerful enough to express what their kisses could. Finally, the reality of everything that had happened crept into Will’s mind and he sat up in the bed.

He was still naked, though he was now clean. His hands flew down to the gash across his abdomen to find that it was closed and scarred over, leaving him with a hideous, beautiful smile across his stomach. He moved his hands over it, feeling it, the place where he had _crawled out_. With his other eyes, he looked out into the forest that surrounded him, where he was still watching his dogs play, still watching flowers spring from the ground apparently according to his will. He was no longer trapped within his human skin. He was _free_.

He moved his human face up to look at Hannibal.

“We did it.” he whispered, a joyous smile on both of his faces.

“Indeed, we did.” he said. His human body wrapped his arms tightly around Will and peppered him with kisses, along his face, his jaw, his throat. Will leaned into it, the warmth of his husband’s kisses spreading across his skin and sinking deep into his bones. They fell into each other’s embrace, Hannibal’s hands stroking gently over every part of him, across his shoulders and down his arms, making the hairs stand up on his skin, even as their spirits walked together through the forest. Everything Will touched seemed to spring to life; branches budded from a flick of his fingers, saplings sprouted from the swirl of his breath. He followed Hannibal through a beautiful, colorful meadow with a low, small outcropping in the center of it, where he stopped.

“Do you recognize where we are?” Hannibal asked him. Will tilted his face up to the brilliant sky, where sunshine pierced through the clouds in rays, basking the world in light. It took him a long moment to recognize the pine trees that lined the cliff above the cave, which was now a tiny hole in the side of a little hill. Everything looked different in the light.

“The cave where I hatched.” he said, his voice seeming to come and go with the wind, whispering in the trees around them.

“Follow me.” Hannibal said, and the Wendigo grew smaller, the edges of it wisping away until it shrank to the size of a man and vanished into the cave.

Will chose not to think about it, but rather to simply attempt to walk into the cave, and felt his spirit shifting as he did so. He moved and changed, shrinking his form until he could fit in the cave as well, and while he did so he felt human Hannibal stroke his fingers through his human hair with affection, his lips on his throat.

“You are a natural.” he whispered into Will’s human ear, the heat of his breath washing over Will’s face in their bed. He pressed kisses down along Will’s human jaw, his eyes gazing at him with absolute adoration, and all Will could do was gaze back with a sweet smile.

Together, their spirits walked into the cave, where the Ravenstag’s body lay, still in a pool of its and Will’s blood. Beside it was a void in the blood, in the shape of Will, where he had lain for hours and had died. Will approached the stag carefully, his eyes intent on its face and throat, searching for any sign of breath.

“You have taken all of its blood.” Hannibal explained. “If you return some, it may awaken.”

Will nodded and without hesitation, lifted his pure black hand above the Ravenstag’s head. He brought his other hand to his palm and dragged a sharp claw along it. Black, vicious liquid oozed from the wound and dripped down onto the Ravenstag’s fur in dark blotches. Will moved his hand so that it dripped over the slice in its neck, and watched in wonder as the blackness slithered up and into it, almost as if it were alive.

The Ravenstag inhaled deeply, then snorted out of its nose. Its eyes opened and Will stepped back so that it could rise. Weakly, it drew its feet under itself and stood up, until it raised its head proudly, and turned to look at Will with silent, benevolent eyes.

“You sacrificed your life for me.” he said. “Thank you.”

It bowed its head gracefully, lowering its snout all the way to the ground, before lifting it and turning away, its hooves gently clip-clopping as it exited the cave and disappeared into the sunlight.

“You have made powerful allies this day, Will.” the Wendigo said, reaching up to put a clawed hand on Will’s furry back. “Our enemy has been destroyed; and after that, no one else will dare challenge us.”

In their bed, Will felt Hannibal’s affectionate kisses grow more passionate as his lips trailed down his throat. Will moaned softly and turned into his touch, running his fingers along Hannibal’s back, then spreading his palms to pull him close. In the cave, the Wendigo turned to place long, languid licks up the throat of the Wolf and across his face, flicking in between his lips until the Wolf parted them and let him in.

In the bed, Hannibal slid his mouth down Will’s body and took his cock into his mouth, sloppily licking over it, teasing him, making him wet and dripping and lustful. Will’s hips canted upward and he tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him near. In the cave, the Wolf pulled the Wendigo down to the stone floor, neither caring about the cold nor the hardness, both tangling themselves together in arms and legs and wisps of blackness. The Wendigo reached down to wrap its deadly claws around their cocks, and both Wills moaned as he felt pleasure there from both bodies, both of his backs arching with desire.

In the bed, Hannibal rose up onto his knees, straddling Will with his thighs and moving him into the heat between his cheeks. Will’s dazed eyes looked at him with surprise, entirely missing when he had been working himself open while he’d been lost in the haze of pleasure.

“You will have to teach me how not to get so easily distracted.” he whispered. Hannibal gave him a flirtatious smile and then sank down slowly, working Will into him, the bodies of men needing care and gentleness. The bodies of monsters needed no such care. The Wolf pulled himself away and with his powerful arms, he pulled the Wendigo up so that it was on all fours. He dug his claws into its hips and mounted it, pushing into it hard and fast. It snarled while the Wolf howled, both monsters eager and vicious in their joining.

In the bed, Will started to rock his hips, gently pushing up into Hannibal as he worked him open. He watched his face, overcome with bliss and rapture, his chin tipping back a little more with every thrust. Will’s human fingers clasped his hips and helped him push himself deeper, his eyes closing as he became lost in the haze of pleasure.

The Wolf closed its eyes as well, and then all Will knew was his lover, in both places. He felt himself inside him, swallowed by him, taken by him, needed by him. In both places he smelled him, heard his beating heart, felt his pulse, tasted his skin. All the rest of the world was lost to him as they were joined; all he could hear were the Wendigo’s cries of pleasure and Hannibal’s gentle moans, all he could feel was their bodies swallowing him in deep. The pleasure rose inside both of his bodies together, melding into one feeling that grew and grew, lust piling on lust until his skin glowed and his blood was fire.

He opened all four of his eyes and howled with both of his mouths, screaming his pleasure as he poured his release into Hannibal. With both sets of teeth he bit Hannibal’s neck, human teeth against human skin, Wolf’s fangs tearing at the Wendigo’s black flesh. He raised both hands to stroke his lover, fast and hard, needing him to join him in this ecstasy. The Wendigo’s cry pierced the air while Hannibal gave a soft whimper, both of them pouring over Will’s hands, all four bodies trembling in the beauty of their desire.

They collapsed, two to the bed, two in the cave. Will reached for Hannibal’s human body and pulled him close, feeling his warm arms wrap tightly around his back. The Wendigo turned to pull the Wolf near to him, both of their tongues emerging to lap at each other’s faces, tracing along sharp fangs, tasting each other’s black blood.

They lay together in both places for a long while, both enjoying each other’s company and the peace that they had fought with their lives to win. But eventually, as the sun was setting low over the horizon, Will’s human stomach started to grumble.

“Let us nourish you, so you regain your strength.” Hannibal said. “You have been asleep for the entire winter.” He rose from the bed and held out his hand as if Will were, indeed, a prince. He took it without protest and let his husband help him to the table. He sat and watched him cook, such a mundane, normal activity, while their spirits turned and left the cave to explore their kingdom together.

Will was delighted to see many of his warriors had survived. Comrades who had fought with their lives beside him now bounded up to greet him with joy. No longer seeing them as shadows, to him they were shining light, their spirits radiating life and vitality. He knelt down and touched each of them in turn, showing his gratefulness to each and every one. He thanked them over and over, and swore to continue protecting them now that he was the stronger one. All of this was said without words, and Will found that he really liked it.

His pack followed them wherever they went, their subjects bowing to greet them, and Will no longer felt strange being called “prince”. It felt right. Everything was right.

Hannibal placed a bowl of steaming hot stew in front of Will’s hungry human mouth. His stomach grumbled loudly and he laughed at how _normal_ the situation felt. Hannibal sat across from them and they began to eat, the flavors of Hannibal’s cooking slipping over his tongue and down his throat with delicacy.

“Who is it?” Will asked.

“One of the Verger’s servant-boys. He didn’t stay in the basement as Margot had ordered him to, when the Dragon attacked. Ended up with an unfortunate dragon claw right through his heart.”

Will gave Hannibal a smirk and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You enjoy that his disobedience is what caused his death.”

Hannibal raised his glass of wine to his lips.

“Immensely.”

Will’s heart glowed with love for his vicious, flippant husband. His spirit walked up to the Wendigo and pressed him hard against a tree, pushing his wolf-tongue deep into his throat. He had the satisfaction of watching Hannibal’s human face react, the slightest droop of his eyelids as they kissed with passion in the forest. Will wasn’t certain which of them was the worse monster- Hannibal, who reveled in the death of disobedient humans, or Will for loving him for it.

Later, their human forms took the journey through the forest to seek out their spirit forms. 

“It will be good for you to see yourself.” Hannibal had explained. 

Will watched with amazement as everywhere he stepped, the snow melted and flowers sprang from the earth.

“This can’t keep happening, or I’ll never be able to go into town again.” he said.

“You will learn to control it.” Hannibal replied. “Though you will be just fine in town for now, as it is naturally spring there. What an interesting season you have chosen to embody, Will.”

Will snorted.

“As opposed to your death-winter?”

Hannibal gave him an annoyed, loving smile.

“Yes.”

They reached the part of the forest where their spirits walked, the part that had once been entirely black to Will. But now he discovered that he could still See, even with his human eyes. Everything was bright and lively; gone were the dark shadows that had plagued him before he had hatched.

“I really had been blind.” he whispered, watching as Winged Things fluttered over their heads and Tiny Things rustled in the grass around their ankles. Hannibal pulled him close and brushed his fingers through his hair.

“Yet you never let that stop you.” he whispered with reverence. They shared a kiss, the forest spirits chittering with glee at the sight of it. In the distance, the Wolf saw a pair of humans embracing each other and he walked towards them, stopping only a few feet away, the Wendigo just behind them. Human Will parted from the kiss and turned to look up at…himself.

It was entirely strange seeing himself. Both of him paused in their motions and simply looked. He saw before him a black, terrifying wolf-beast, with _his face_ , though it was entirely black and had white, shining eyes. It also towered above him, and he leaned his Wolf form down so that his human eyes could take its form in properly. Antlers, just like Hannibal’s, grew from its head to end in deadly, sharp points. It’s arms were too long, hanging from shoulders that were too high. It looked very similar to the Wendigo in many ways, and yet was entirely different, with a thick coat of black fur and the large hind paws of a wolf.

Yet as he looked, with his Wolf’s eyes he also saw a man; human yet strong, a face he hardly recognized for its health and vitality. It was the sight of his human self, glowing with life and strength, that was harder for him to swallow.

“That can’t be me.” both Wills said. The Wendigo lifted a claw to rake it through Will’s fur while Hannibal brushed his fingers through his hair. 

“Now you see yourself as I have always seen you.” Hannibal whispered into his ears, and Will blushed. He tore his eyes away from himself and looked at his lover instead; both his visions filled with Hannibal. Their kisses were sweet; one with lips, one with teeth. They parted and gazed at each other, both just as awestruck by the situation.

“This is incredibly strange, and yet I find myself falling into it as easily as a dream.” Will said. He felt the Wendigo’s claws rake gently through the fur on the back of his neck.

“As I knew you would.” he said softly, the gaze of his shining white eyes as piercing and beautiful as it had always been. “Come, let us guard our kingdom. I will show you all the villages that belong to me, and take you to the ends of our land.”

Together, their spirit forms left their human bodies behind. Will felt a rush of joy as the wind hit his face, easily following behind the Wendigo at its inhuman speeds. Their human forms linked hands and walked at a leisurely pace towards the village. Will found himself wanting to know the fate of a few particular people, though he didn’t much care about the rest.

“Tell me, who is left alive?”

Hannibal let a soft grin prick at the corner of his mouth.

“Alana, Abigail, and Beverly are all alive and well.” he said, and the tension melted from Will’s body. “You will be pleased to know that Jack and Bella have also survived, and are in fact expecting a child. The village is thriving and healthy. Once they observed the Wendigo and the Wolf fighting with their lives to protect them, the villagers have felt much safer. You have done them a great service, Will.”

Will had a hard time imagining anyone in the village not being afraid of him and Hannibal, now that they knew they were tied to the monsters that lived in the forest. When they strolled down main street hand-in-hand, they were spotted by a young girl whose eyes grew wide as she ran off to announce their presence. Before the chaos consumed them he glanced at the buildings, seeing some charred down to their foundations, but others being re-built, new timbers laying along the walls, waiting to be put up.

Beverly was the first to greet him, running at top speed from her room above the bakery, knocking Will nearly off his feet from the force of her hug. He held her back just as tightly, laughing as she spewed words at him so fast he could hardly make sense of them.

“Will I can’t _believe_ you’re okay, the way you summoned that monster-thing and Hannibal and the two of you destroyed that Dragon but then you fainted and Hannibal carried you off and we never _heard_ from _either_ of you after that I thought you were both dead!”

Will laughed and let her fuss over him, her hands pulling at his ears and beard and hands to make certain he was real. As she fawned, other people emerged from their homes, some hanging back with fear, others more curious than cautious stepping closer. Of course Jack barreled through the crowd and made his way to the front, where to Will’s surprise, he bowed his head.

“We owe the both of your our lives.” he said, and Will raised an eyebrow at him and looked at Hannibal, who only gave him a tiny, amused smirk. Jack looked up and took Will’s hand firmly in his, shaking it roughly.

“Let it be known that no matter the attitude of some in this town, I, Bella, and _all_ of us are grateful for your summoning of those beasts.” he said, turning to shake Hannibal’s hand as well. “Whatever of Pazzi’s magic you used to control those things and defend us, we are grateful, and are grateful to your sacrifices that must have been made in order to do that.”

Will had to struggle to keep himself from laughing, amazed at just how _incredibly wrong_ Jack had gotten… everything.

“You’re welcome.” Hannibal said, taking Jack’s hand with sincerity, which only caused Will to have to try even harder not to laugh. “It was indeed a deep struggle for us, and we are grateful for your recognition of our sacrifices.”

It was all Will could do to not roll his eyes.

After that, the entire town wanted to hear the story, and Will was content to let Hannibal tell it as he saw fit. It turned out that Will did remember how he had ‘defeated’ the Wendigo after all; and once he had they had spent weeks studying the dangerous, black magic, until they had learned how to control the forest spirits in order to defend the village. The entire thing was so hilarious that Will found himself _needing_ to laugh; and so he did, with his other body, deep in the forest, the sound of an enormous, boisterous spirit-wolf’s howl echoing over the treetops and into the sky.

An impromptu party sprang up at Bedelia’s, and everyone wanted to buy Will a round of whiskey to thank him, all of which he politely refused. When Alana had heard that they were alive she came barreling down main street on horseback, now fully healed and able to ride again, Abigail on her own horse beside her. She hugged Will tightly for a long time, whispering in his ear that she knew this village full of idiots and had the story entirely wrong, and she was willing to listen to him tell it to her _properly_ , whenever he was ready. His heart swelled with gratefulness, amazed that their friendship had endured, and treasuring it even more now than he had when he was a man.

For the first time in his life, Will enjoyed the company of others. He and Hannibal danced with the townspeople late into the night, everyone joyous and celebrating, both humans and spirits alike. After that night they no longer remained hermits on the outskirts of town, but were well-known and well-loved, a foundation couple of the community, even being asked to help rebuild the town after the destruction brought upon it by the Dragon.

As the years went by, stories of the Dragon were told to the townspeople’s children, then their children’s children. The heroes of the story were named Will and Hannibal, coincidentally just like the town’s doctor and his husband, but of course, it wasn’t the same men as had fought the Dragon hundreds of years ago. Will and Hannibal were such popular names, after all: after the heroes in the legend.

The village grew prosperous and flourished into a bustling town as word spread to the far reaches of the world that it was protected by great spirits. As dragons and monsters ravaged other places, none dared touch this town, guarded by such power as it was. People came from far and wide to experience the art and culture that sprang up there, a lot of it funded by the Lecters, who were great fans of anything aesthetically beautiful. The Vergers, too, flourished and bloomed, their wealth increasing through the years, their house always the picture of health and vitality, never an illness falling upon them. 

Of course, every so often, a drunk idiot would go missing in the night, wandering off into the Southern Forest, never to be seen again. The wolves were vicious in that forest, townspeople warned travelers, and anyone who didn’t heed the warning would most certainly become a meal for them. It tended to happen that the particularly rude would disappear as well, to the point that parents would warn their children to mind their manners, or the Wendigo would come and eat you. Unless you were a Verger or a Katz; those families seemed to have all the luck, never falling on ill will of any kind.

Will lay nuzzled in Hannibal’s arms in the grand bed of their mansion, the window open to let in the fresh spring breeze. Arrow lay at the foot of their bed, ever watchful, even after hundreds of years of peace. Will rolled over and kissed his husband on his cheek, their wedding rings still bound around their fingers, still as bright and solid as the day they had first put them upon each other. He sighed with contentment as he remembered the wedding they had just had that night; their sixth one. It was their third in this village, having been gone long enough since their previous one that none of the townspeople who had known them last time were still alive.

“I love marrying you.” Will said with a dreamy sigh, his belly still full of the delicious feast Hannibal had prepared.

“And I you.” Hannibal replied. “I will continue to bind myself to you perpetually, for all of time. I would give my life for you.” he said. Will raised both of his heads and looked into all four of Hannibal’s eyes, knowing just how deeply the truth of that ran, feeling his heart burn with passion and love as he gazed upon his mate. They both kissed, sweet and heated, familiar and longing, old and new. Will had once thought that ‘forever’ would be too long to pledge himself to Hannibal; but now, after such a short time of a few hundred years, he knew it would not be long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> Thank you to _every_ single person who supported me through this story; my betas, commenters, my friends! I never could have written something so long, and that I am so _proud _of, without each and every one of you. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! To all the fannibals, and to Hannibal and Will, who get to live happy ever after, forever in fanfiction <3__


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